They say that when you’re about to die, your life flashes before your eyes. But what about when you see someone you love struggling to hold on to life? A million insignificant memories pop into your mind. When you can still see them fighting, a future without them plants itself into your thoughts. It seems like you’ve spent forever relishing over these ideas, but in reality it’s been maybe two minutes.

The summer of 2013 was the summer that beavers compiled a major dam in Flathead River. It was also the summer that we chose to host a small family reunion. Typically, we figured we should introduce them to the beauty of floating the river. So we took eight people; five of which were kids.

Our first half of the float was easy, relaxing, and all around uneventful. The end of the second half was where my family became scarred. Our kayaks had separated by roughly 100 feet. All the kids and one adult were huddled in the front with the two other adults in the back. That was our first mistake, especially because they knew where we were going. The second was letting the eight year old lead our group. S we rounded a bend in the river, we could hear water sloshing around frantically, moving around the giant obstacle. The towering dam split down the middle of the river, practically its own warning sign. My brother and I banked our kayaks at the edge, but my three cousins were too far out to make it to the edge. My uncle, the only adult in our section, went after them to make sure they were safe.

It’s hard to be heard when the volume of splashing water overwhelms you. It’s even harder to think rationally when you’re worried about the people you love. No one knew where to go or what to do, but my parents chose to follow the group and be a voice of reason. The current was so strong, like a vacuum, pulling everything into it. My mom followed my dad, and the current pulled them into the pile of sticks. The vision of their kayaks spilling them into the water has burned itself into my brain. My brother and I were across the river, watching helplessly as my mom clung to a branch sticking out right before the dam. We couldn’t see our dad, but all we could do was watch as the current pulled my mom’s head under water, over and over. When you just sit there, memories start. I thought about how she’s dedicated her free time to coaching my volleyball. I thought about the times she’s taken time off of work because I was sick. Those little details are what I remembered first.

“Mom, hold on! Hold on! Don’t let go Mom!” My brother yelled out with urgency in his voice.

“I saw my dad rushing over the dam, trying to find his wife. He stumbled over the mass of sticks to where she was. When she finally lost the strength to hold on, she let go, and my dad was right there to catch her. Had he been a second later, my mom wouldn’t have been able to see me on my first day of high school. She wouldn’t have been able to meet my first real boyfriend or see me get my license. Timing is everything, and in that millisecond she let go, I thought that she was never going to see me graduate or get married.

When we were finally on the same side of the river, my family just hugged each other and cried. The worst thing to have happen is to witness someone you love desperately grasp for life.