by Heather Howell

When I read A River Runs Through It the quote that stood out the most to me was Maclean’s last line, “I am haunted by waters.” This quote was significant to me because Norman and his family all loved fishing so much, but after Norman lost his family the waters were a constant reminder to him of memories. Throughout the book Norman Maclean emphasizes on his relationships with his family - particularly his brother Paul.

Norman has a unique relationship with his brother Paul. Paul and Norman love each other deeply, but express it in different ways. Norman shows his love for Paul by always trying to help him and guide him to live a better life. When Paul runs into trouble with with the law or his finances, Norman supports him and lets Paul know he is there for him. After Paul got into the fight and ended up in jail, Norman came to help him and take him home. Paul showed his love for Norman in the book after he thought Norman and Jessie were having problems and he took Norman to go fishing with his father and him. While neither of the brothers are upfront in telling the other that they love them, they both prove it continuously through their actions.

The relationship between Jessie and Norman was somewhat complicated. Jessie and Norman both loved each other immensely and had a very deep relationship. Along with their everlasting love for one another, they also shared a common problem they each were trying to solve. Jessie was trying to help her brother Neal live a better life, just as Norman was trying to help Paul. They both understood what the other was dealing with and tried to be supportive of the situation. Jessie and Norman not only proclaimed their love aloud to each other, but showed it through supporting and caring for one another.

Norman seemed to admire Paul’s skill in fly-fishing. Before Paul dies he is nearing perfection as a fly-fisherman, and Norman seems to strive towards being as good as Paul at it. While Norman has everything else in his life going for him by being happily married with a job, the one thing Paul has that Norman doesn’t is his skill at fly-fishing. Paul’s true love of fishing is what kept him going in life and was a common interest Paul and Norman had together. When either of them was in a tough situation, they could rely on the other to be there for him, and go off fishing together to get away.

When Norman said that he is “haunted by the waters” I think he is referring to the waters as a reminder of his past. The river holds many memories for him of his father, brother, and times fly-fishing with them. After Norman loses his wife, father, and brother to death, his most vivid reminder of them is the waters. The river brings back his memories of his family, particularly Paul, and is a painful reminder to him. Whenever Norman sees the waters, it brings back memories to him of all the times he spent with Paul fly-fishing and talking.

The reason I felt “I am haunted by the waters” was such a strong quote was that, to me, it spoke about his relationships with his family and how he is constantly reminded of them. I felt that the book had a strong emphasis on his relationships with his family and by writing the book he expressed them.  When Norman says the waters are haunting to him I think he is referring to it just as a constant reminder of his strong relationships with his family, particularly Paul, and how much he misses them.

Most people never realize how important some one is in their life until that person is gone. One of these kinds of important people in my life was Grampa, who died June 5, 2007.

Grampa was an old Mexican who grew up in Uvalde, Texas. His first language was Spanish so he always spoke with an accent and when he got mad he would curse in his original language. He had dark skin and white hair surrounding a bald spot. Whenever he was surprised or if someone came over he would always say “Anae” which to this day we still don’t know what it means.

After school Grampa had always had hotdogs or some other snack fixed for whoever came over and got after us when no one did. He was a good cook, specializing in Mexican food (the real stuff, not store bought). He would spend the day cooking rice, beans, and tortillas just to get someone to come over. If just his grandchildren were over, no matter the age, he would immediately switch the TV from the usual Westerns and Wrestling to cartoons.

Another one of the things that was important to me was Grampa’s love of plants. At Grampa’s house there were lilacs, roses, and a vegetable garden containing tomatoes and peppers. While he was sick he didn’t have the strength to tend to the vegetable garden so I convinced my family to take care of it. When Grampa heard of this his face lit up and whenever we were working on the garden he would sit outside to watch us and would tell us how deep to plant a carrot seed, or what to do for an expected frost.

I never realized it until after, but Grampa always kept our family together. We would always have a barbecue for every summer holiday. My aunts and uncles use to come to Polson to see us at least once a month from Missoula and West Glacier, but after his death everyone separated. My Aunt immediately moved to Washington. The last holiday, Easter, remained clear of the usual egg hunt and barbecue.

Losing such an important person in my life hasn’t been easy and moving on is still difficult. I still cry from that emptiness that can never be filled again. I will never forget him.

Early in the dark and depressing morning of Saturday September 30, 2006, my mom slowly walked to my bed, and gently shook me, waking me up. I looked at her, droopy eyed, and she quietly told me, “She’s gone.” Which meant my grandmother, Yaya, had passed away. I slowly rolled out of bed and took a hot thirty-minute shower. We packed some clothes for my dad, brother (Dale), and sister (Bradee) because they had gone down Friday night.

The night before I had played a football game in Big Fork. My mom and her mom came up to watch us beat the Vikings, during their homecoming. After the game, I rode home with my mom and thought about Yaya the whole way home. When we got home, my mom said she was too tired to drive to Arlee to see Yaya, and she thought we would make it in the morning.

After packing we started to head towards Arlee, stopping for breakfast at McDonald’s, in silence. We knew as a family that this day was getting near, but no one thought it was going to happen. I always thought she was too strong for the cancer to bring her to the heavenly gates.

We, my mom and I, got to the house about seven or eight, the cold dew was still on the lush green lawn, and my dad met us at the car. He was wearing his dark sunglasses, he didn’t want anybody to see him crying, and gave my mom a long, long, long hug. Then he gave me a long hug. I found Auntie Onie (Ellen) and Auntie Deb were outside by the old rusted brown Ford (Ol’ Brownie). They were hugging and crying (not crying because they were laughing too hard), I assumed they were remembering their mom, not wanting to let go. I walked up the squeaky wooden steps that led to the beautiful, small blue house that my dad grew up in with his three sisters (Debbie, Ellen, and Gwen) and brother (Brian). I walked through the dark hallways, the smell of sweet-grass in the air, to her room in the back. Papa was sitting by the bed holding her limp hand. I slowly and quietly crawled up on the bed to say my last goodbyes.

In the room next door, my brother and younger cousin (Mansy) were playing an intense, they didn’t even notice me as I walked in, game of Madden 07. Dale was getting worked, I don’t remember the score, but he was being dominated. Dale is always the Packers and Mans’ is always the Eagles. I sat between them on the bed, they didn’t notice the bed squeak and fold in. The game ended when Mans’ through a bomb to Terrell Owens for a touchdown. Mans’ asked me to play him, but I said it was too early and he agreed.

The three of us went outside and sat at the old wooden picnic table on the porch and sat, for what felt like an eternity, in a subdued silence. My plump baby cousin, Patrick, came waddling out to break the silence. I could tell by his sadden and confused face he knew something was wrong but didn’t know what. He strolled up to me and asked me why everybody was crying. I felt it wasn’t my place to tell him his Yaya had passed away so I said, “Somethings wrong with Yaya.” He asked if she would be OK. I told him, “I don’t know. I hope so.” Deep down I knew she was in a better place than we were and that she wasn’t suffering anymore and that was the only reason I didn’t cry as much as I should have.

Just then, the door slowly creaked open and my dad and uncle were pushing a stretcher with Yaya on it out on the porch, shortly followed by a plump, balding big white man. I quietly followed them down the steps and into the hearse. The hearse slowly pulled away leaving us standing there in a cloud of dust. Papa got in Ol’ Brownie and followed the strange white man to the morgue.

Dad told me get Dale and Mans’ and load them up in the van so we could go set up the Arlee Community Center for the wake and the funeral. When we got there the lady behind the counter told us where we could find the chairs and gave us the big gold key to every door in the Center. The six of us, Dale, Mans’, Dad, Uncle Brian, Chad and me, set the chairs side by side twenty chairs in a row and fifteen rows, you do the math.

For the next three or four days we stayed well fed. Every four hours we were woken up to eat a full meal with meat, potatoes. fruit and vegetables.

For the next three or four days I learned Yaya liked to listen to country music, but mostly Brad Paisley. We listened to it the twenty-four seven. I learned Yaya said she was going to runoff and marry Brad Paisley.

Over the next three or four days I met a lot of my family. I met my dad’s aunts, uncles, and cousins that I didn’t know existed.

On the last day at the Center I learned something. I learned that my dad is one of the strongest people in the world, not physically but emotionally. During the funeral service I watched my dad, he never cried a tear, in front of any body. Instead he kept to himself and when the service was over he went on a walk and let it all out, he cried for the first time I ever saw, and he talked to his mom. Later I talked to him about it and he said, “Being the oldest boy in his family, I had to protect my younger brother and sisters and I have to be strong for them.” He asked me, very quietly yet sternly, if I could do the same. I told him, “I would try.”