Into the abyss

Blue, unmoving, ominous. The stillness disturbing. This is how the ocean looks to me now. Sat outside on a wooden bench draped in blankets, looking out to the array of pebbles that blend effortlessly with the sea. A shiver rushes down my spine with every crash of a wave, a sound that once soothed my soul. My throat closes, muscles trying to remember how to breathe. My hands around my cup of tea tremble slightly. I take a deep breath. The ocean was once something I viewed as a beacon of hope, something that made me feel like anything was possible. The glimmer of sunshine on the waves so beautiful you’d almost shed a tear. Its teal tones, intertwined with blues and greens always a breath taking sight. It was constantly a reminder that really we are these tiny insignificant beings compared with the vastness of open water. Whenever life got overwhelming, it reminded me that no matter what I was going through, it was simply a blip on the timeline that is my life. Realistically, the sea is an intimidating abyss we know basically nothing about, but somehow it still made you feel like there were limitless possibilities because the sea itself seemed limitless.

A wave of guilt instantly washes over me as the negativity of my thoughts start to drown me, weighing me down. I should be feeling lucky, and have a new lease on life, but instead, I feel empty. Vacant behind the eyes. Nobody ever talks about the other side of a life altering experience, the one that isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. My life before wasn’t anything special, but at thirty five years old, I didn’t have a care in the world. I wasn’t scared of anything, I loved my simple life. I feel like a different person now, like a piece of me was left at the bottom of the sea that day. I don’t recognise this person who questions everything and is scared all of the time. A new hermit- like creature I didn’t even know existed in me now took over my body and made decisions for me. I seemed to have this complete lack of control over my life and you’d think what happened to me would have done the opposite. I hated myself for it, but it wasn’t just me I lost. I feel like I’m still stuck there, fighting for the surface, for that sweet oxygen, but it never comes. A perpetual state of being dragged under. It was suffocating.

I always wonder if I’ll ever be brave enough to even dip my toes in the sea again. I longed for the care free girl who would sit on the edge of a speed boat every Saturday, salt sprays kissing my skin and giving my hair beach waves. Freckles alight as the sun beamed down on warm summer days. Dad at the wheel, music blaring, beer in hand. My big brother constantly complaining he was hungry having already eaten all the snacks we brought. My soul never felt more free. I mourned that part of my life deeply every day, my chest clenched as I fought the dark memory of that day. Tears suddenly pooled in my eyes and my breath hitched in my chest. It should’ve been me. I bat the thought away immediately, going inside to swap out my tea for a wine.

I’d been brought up a sea baby, swimming before I could walk. My brother and I grew up in several homes, but all by some body of water. My parents hated being stagnant. They always needed to be somewhere they could take a boat out on the water for the day. Occasionally fishing, but mostly for the wind in your hair freedom feeling. They were like modern hippies, I loved them for it. The constant changing of schools was difficult and in hindsight a little selfish of them, but I always adapted. Being in the ocean were my fondest childhood memories, I was lucky, I had a good childhood and the sea was always our way of bonding as a family. We always had fun, laughing together, my brother doing silly impressions, my dad breaking out his dad moves. We’d often stop for a swim, racing each other. My mum always called me her little fish. I was one with the water, unbeatable in races. I sighed heavily, the happy memories fading into darker ones, making it suddenly hard to swallow. I was no longer able to bat away the tears, so I let them fall. The daily pain I try so hard to numb over the last six months taking over, as it often did. The loneliness was overwhelming, my world seemed tainted now, like I was living in an alternate reality.

I wish I could go back in time and change what happened. I wish we never went on the boat that day. I had a feeling. I can’t explain it, but I knew something bad would happen and I said nothing. It kills me every day. I remember that it was cloudy that day, but the wind was calm, so there was no reason not to take the boat out like we did every week. My dad always checked the boat before taking it out, but he forgot that day. My brother was grinning from ear to ear as usual, carrying a box of beers to the boat, my mum piling on the sandwiches, it was all normal. Until it wasn’t.

About thirty minutes in, the boat was jerking more than usual and the waves felt angry. I could feel adrenalin spiking in my blood and that feeling in my gut never went away. I eventually told them that we should head back. My dad laughed it off, I wish I had pushed harder. As we continued on, the journey got more rough to the point that I was gripping onto the boat, a crippling fear rising in me. Panic making my leges numb.

“Dad, we need to go home. Something’s not right.” I yelled shakily over the sound of the engine which was now spluttering, sounding like it was ready to blow. Before he could answer me, the engine half exploded, a bit of shrapnel scraping my cheek and sending me over the side of the boat. Unseen waves kept crashing over my face each time I tried to find the surface. I could hear the muffled sounds of my family calling my name as I was dragged underneath the boat, hitting my head. The world quickly got fuzzy and dark. I tried to breathe but took in only water, a horrifying convulsion of breathing and vomiting wracking my body. I was scared beyond belief. After what could have been seconds or minutes, I felt a hand around my waist. I opened an eye, it stung as the salt water invaded it. My brother was trying to pull me to the surface. I remember seeing a rope of some kind, but we were both being beaten by an onslaught of vengeful waves. Time seemed to slow and I noticed my brothers leg was now caught in what was supposed to be a lifeline and his grip on me loosened. I was struggling to keep my eyes open at this point, an odd calmness creeping in while my body was still shuddering and spluttering, half giving up while also still fighting to help my brother; my body uncooperative.

I have a vague memory of my dad jumping in trying to pull us both out but struggling, he was injured. At the time, I didn’t know why, but as he was trying to drag my brother and I to the surface I knew it was too late. My brother motioned to my dad to save me and I screamed with no sound, taking in more water as I knew that meant that he wouldn’t be saved, there wouldn’t be enough time, he was already out of oxygen. I was dragged out, my limp body hitting the deck hard, that first breath of oxygen painful and almost exhilarating. I coughed violently while my dad jumped back in for Chris and the world caved in while I faded out, my mother rushing to my aid, panic stricken.

When I awoke, I was in a hospital. My parents were by my side, deep sadness etched in their faces. An inhuman sound came out of me as I sobbed, knowing my brother was dead. My chest ached, my lungs feeling scarred. They held me for a while until I cried myself to sleep with the help of IV meds, a black blanket of emotional relief. The weeks and months following that are blurry. I slept a lot and didn’t leave the house for a long time. I don’t even remember leaving the hospital. The doctors said it was normal to miss time after what was essentially a near death experience. Perhaps it was because the guilt of surviving when my brother didn’t was too much to bear. I knew something was wrong and I didn’t say anything. It shouldn’t have happened this way, this is my fault. The thoughts were never ending and sent me into spiralling anxiety daily. My parents didn’t know what to do and eventually backed off as my fits of rage became too frequent. I knew I was hurting them more than they could already withstand, but I couldn’t help it.

They seemed to spend more time out on the water now than before, like they’re looking for Chris, or maybe it just makes them feel closer to him. I hardly see them anymore even though we live under the same roof. That was their way of grieving I guess. That’s where they were now, while I stared out to the horizon from the bench outside of the house, like I did every day. I still hadn’t found a new normal, a way to live without him or the sea. Not knowing if I’ll ever find that again haunts me every day.

I shivered, a cold chill washing over me, breaking my reverie, but oddly, it made me feel warm. Like my brother was nearby telling me to shut up. I smile, an unnatural feeling, while a stray tear escaped my eye, I could almost smell his aftershave. I was surprised to feel butterflies in my stomach, and it took me a while to pin point what it was. But it was hope. I relished in this feeling for a while, scared it would be taken from me at any moment.

“Emily!” My mother called from the shore. I walked toward her without thinking, apparently no longer feeling that heavy fear that has plagued me since that day. The pebbles crunched under my bare feet and I felt that long lost connection with the earth again, like I was grounded. Clouds parted and bright beams of sunshine landed on my face. I felt alive for the first time in 6 months, I half wanted to sprint for the water. My parents stood there smiling, waiting. I didn’t stop until the water rolled over my ankles, calling me home. My spirit glowed as I embraced my parents and let all that sadness I’d been holding onto wash away. My brother had been with me all along, I knew that now and it gave me comfort. I was going to be ok.

The line went flat and the monotone of the continuous beep echoed in the air. I held her hand as she let go. It wasn’t fair to keep her hanging on anymore, it had been six months of waiting on a miracle, but she was never going to come out of this coma. The doctors had been saying it for months. But we weren’t ready, even though we knew it was selfish to keep her in limbo, trapped inside her body.

“Is that it?” Chris asked, wiping his nose with his t shirt. Emily’s father sat silently in the corner, glazed over, still in denial. I knew it would hit me hard, but I’d wait until I was alone to fall apart. Chris needed his mother and Paul needed his wife. But I could barely breathe as my daughter slipped away in front of me, knowing I could do nothing. I could feel my heart physically shattering while I tried to remember to how to breathe, adrenalin helping me keep it together just enough for my family in this moment. Where do we go from here? Our lives would never be the same, there’s now a gaping void that we’d never be able to fill. Chris crumpled in my arms and Paul left the room. My throat was tight with grief and I didn’t even know where to begin, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to leave her side. The doctors left us for a while to say goodbye. I tried to reminisce and relive the good memories, knowing there may not be any for a while, but I knew it was falling on deaf ears. We’ll find a way to get through it together somehow. We have no choice.

I squeezed her and tight, kissing her on the cheek one last time. “Keep swimming little fish.”