The Beach

The Beach

I walked along the beach, letting the salty sea air fill my lungs as I closed my eyes. I held tight to the 2 yellow roses in my hand, making my silent prayer to whoever was up there to send my pled, message, or wish to let me see him just one more time. I let the warm waves lap up across my bare toes as a silent tears fell down my face. It has

been three years, and yet the pain felt like it was just yesterday. I opened my eyes to this beautiful blue sky day. Letting the sun warm my face as I soaked up the strength from its rays.

The beach was filled with its normal visitors. People laying out soaking up the golden warmth of the sun. Children running into the water laughing and giggling as they ran away from the waves crashing into the sand. Then there was me, standing at the tide's end. With my sun soaked toes buried into the sand by the ebb and flow of the tides. Standing tall and still facing the endless ocean ahead of me. Waiting for an answer that never seemed to come, yet I came here each year with the same pleading question.

My golden hair whipped around my face as I bent down to release the yellow roses into the sea. For the past three years, I have done this. It started as just a way to remember him, then it became something more. A need so deep that regardless of what was happening on this day, I had to make my way to the beach and continue this tradition. To close my eyes and see his goofy smile and brown eyes. Each year, they seem to fade a little more into the backdrop of my mind.

I stood back up and removed my feet from the wet sand. It was time to go back to reality. I pulled my sunglasses down back over my face to cover the silent tears, as I turned away from the beach. I felt the invisible string that connected him and I snap. It was difficult to explain why I felt this way, but I always did when I came here. I took a couple of deep breaths as I turned the car on. Clearing my mind and getting ready to face the traffic as I navigated back to my apartment. The radio sang to life and I immediately stopped. The melancholic tune I knew well rang out into my car.

This song was not one that was often played on the radio anymore. In fact, usually you would have to play it on your device to hear it. It was once a popular song. However, it is now iconic. But this song held more weight to it. It was the only song played at his funeral. The singer's voice conveyed his loss through powerful words, and I sat locked into its words and sounds as they encompassed my car. I couldn’t move, the music provoked so many memories and emotions all at once. A lifetime of friendship, snuffed out in a blink of an eye. The parallels of opposites sung line by line stung as the singer's voice belted out each note. Then the chorus hit, and I knew I would lose it. Because I was just standing on that beach praying, asking, and wishing for this very same thing this singer wanted. His voice strong and yet full of pain rang out the words I silently asked, wish you were here. The tears slid down again, and I listened to the melody fill my car as I drove away from the beach. I began to wonder if it was some kind of sign. Did he reach out from beyond the grave? We often joked about that. I pulled up a memory from one of the many nights our little group was together.

“You know, if I go first, I am going to haunt you all.” I had said to our small group of six. We were sitting in the den at Mike’s house at the time, debating whether ghosts were real or not.

“I believe it. But, do not haunt me!” Anna had said. She was not, so sure ghost were real, but still didn’t want to take chances if they were.

“You can haunt me I won’t mind.” Mike had said with a big grin on his face. He was always making us laugh.

“Well, if you do haunt us, make it obvious, or else we will think it is the wind or something.” Sam had said. He was another one who believed but liked to debunk everything. He was the one who kept us on our toes.

“Well, I do not want you haunting me, please. I’m good.” Jeff said. Mike’s younger brother. He became part of the group just because. Never really found out whether he believed in ghosts or not.

“Eh, I don’t care either way, but if you could tell my fortune that would be great.” Susan said. She was always indifferent.

Our group was always debating about this subject. Though we never knew why. I guess to make death easier. We were young, and none of us ever experienced death. So exploring the idea of something like ghosts must have been a way to cope. It was one of many crazy conversations we would have. Which would keep us together as friends through our years. Our group grew up through our high school years, into the first steps of adulthood, and then we faced our first loss together.

Losing Mike. The day it happened, was like any other day. But then again, that is how everyone explains it. It was just like another ordinary day, then BAM! Your life is turned upside down. Maybe they say this because no one else knows how to explain life’s changes. It just does. Like the chapters in a book. You complete one, and then the next one begins. Just like that. No prolog, no warning, it just happens. Nothing can prepare you. That day no one warned us either. He was here, and then he wasn’t. He was just gone. A normal event such as driving a car and then an accident, and then gone. That was it. Blink you are here making plans, blink you are gone and others are making plans. It sucked. Those phone calls, those shock moments where everyone tells you life slows down. But honestly, I don’t really remember those moments. I just know I made the phone calls to the friends who needed to know. Then came the funeral. The group that hadn’t been whole together in more than five years, was now suddenly thrusted together. Standing around in the back of a packed funeral home. Listening to stories about our dearest friend. With words thrown around like ‘gone too soon’, ‘great guy, ‘he will be missed’. The normal phrases all said. With heads bowed and tears falling. But our group stood tall in the back. Not a word said between us, but we all knew what the other was thinking.

Then a schoolmate walked up to the front with a guitar. He sat on the stool and began to play. The words glided out of his mouth silky and smooth, and suddenly all the heads were up and facing him as he played. Those words kept coming until the chorus of the song. Then his beautiful voice broke. ‘Wish you were here’. He paused for a second, and then continued on. My eyes never left his performance. That was three years ago. My heart still aches for him to be here. To have one more day, one more hour to hear his laugh, to talk to him, to just hang.

As I made it back to my apartment, I thought about my day ahead. Saturdays I usually get all my chores completed. Today, I wanted nothing more than to sit down and binge-watch a show. I figured I could allow myself this. I slipped into my comfy yet ratty sweat clothes and curled up on my coach for some quality me time. I started flipping through my favored streaming networks until I landed on a show I had watched multiple times over. Just something in the background, something I could pay little attention to.

As the first show started, I went into the kitchen and made a cup of tea. I figured it would help my mood. I heated the electric kettle and pulled my blue mug off the shelf when I heard a knock at the door. This puzzled me. No one comes over without first texting or calling me. I set the mug down and went to the door. The person knocked again as I got closer. I looked through the peephole and saw the impossible. I had to look again to make sure I was not going crazy. Mike was standing on the other side of my door. I opened the door.

“Surprise!” He said in his normal happy voice. Just as he used to do. My mouth fell open, staring at him. I looked back at the couch to see if I was asleep, but no, I was standing at the door. I motioned for him to come inside. I couldn’t think of anything to say. I was stunned into complete silence. “I guess I really surprised you.” He said. I could only shake my head. That is when I remembered I had the kettle going. I motioned for him to stay there while I went to take care of the tea. When I came back around the corner, I was half expecting him to be gone. But he wasn’t he was still there.

I went to the couch and sat down, and he sat down as well. I took a very tentative sip of my tea to stall my conversation. I had no idea what to say to him. I had wanted this very thing, and now that it was here, I was blowing it. I had loss ability to function and speak. To even figure out to say to him. Should I even bring up the fact that he is dead? Then that just spun me into a whole new direction.

“Is something wrong?” He said with an anxious look on his face. I wanted to say yes! Are you a zombie? “Because you are starting to hyperventilate.” He leaned in closer to check my face over and assess the situation, looking for more signs of illness.Meanwhile, I was trying to gain control of my breathing that I had no idea I let get out of control.

“No, no, it's just that, it has been a long time since we have seen each other.” I attempted to say in a calm voice, but it came out all wrong. It was horse and raspy from losing my breath. I took several more sips of tea, hoping it calms my nerves.

“Oh, that. Yeah, I’m sorry about that. But I am here now.” He said, giving me that smile. Like no time had really passed. When he smiled, it would always extend up to his brown eyes. It was hard not to smile back at him. It was just too infectious. “So, what have you been up to?” He asked so casually.

I began to fill him in on simple things, keeping the conversation light. I told him about work, and how I got a promotion. I told him about the books I had been reading, the places I hope to visit soon, nothing too deep. He sat and listened until the conversation found its natural lull. I wanted to ask him, but I was afraid to mention it. What if he remembers and that is what takes him away?

“Hey Mike, What is the last thing you remember before you got here?” I asked instead. He looked perplexed for a moment and then said,

“Oh I was driving on the road to work. I have been working a lot lately. You know us computer guys.” He didn’t miss a beat. I slid my hand over slowly and gently touched his pinky. It was solid. My finger did not go through it like I thought it would if he was a ghost. The giggle that slipped out sounded crazy almost manic. The tension was building between us as I tried to figure out what was happening here. “What did you think I was, a ghost?” He said laughing. My face contoured into laughter, but it was strange. Because, yes, I did think ge was a ghost, or zombie of some sort. But, it was too easy to sit here and talk to him.

Mike talked about how he missed his friends. He wanted to make more time to see them, but sometimes things just get in the way. For the most part he would keep the conversation on me. Asking questions about our other friends, how my love life was going. That one was a big topic. Which I told him he would get little information on since right now there wasn’t anything to talk about. It was just like old times. The two of us just chatting away about any and everything.

Before long the conversation fell silent again. We sat there on my coach with a hum between us of comfortable peace. It was very surreal. Mike stood up and reached for my hands to help me off the coach. He leaned in to hug me tight, and I could feel the warmth radiating from him. He leaned his head closer to my ear and whispered,

“Don’t live your life wishing for the past. I am always here with you.” Then he pulled away. I looked into those smiling brown eyes, and he was left back out the door. The next thing I remember was jolting awake off the couch. The theme song played from my show as it ended, and cycled through to display episode five. I had slept for an hour. I looked around to see if I had spilled my tea, only to discover I had never made it.

“It was only a dream, It was only a dream!” I didn’t want to forget this dream, so I ran to get my dream notebook off my nightstand, only to find it open with a note written in it.

'See you at the beach, Love, Mike.’