Michael, it happened around the same time as when we went to the beach that fateful day. I had a few drinks just like the day you died, except this time I was frozen in place. For the life of me, I watched the events unfold as opposed to trying to help.
One moment dad and I were enjoying our time together, sitting by a dock on the inlet and the next second, I was thrown into a state of panic and anger. There were three children all around the age of 7 or 8 playing on the dock. One minute they were safe and the next, one had fallen into the ocean. Without pause, a lone ranger dove into the water and rescued him. Scared more than anything, the little boy was saved. Upon seeing the commotion, his family finally came rushing onto the scene. Scared and worried themselves, the little boys' mom scolded him for falling in- like it was his fault, like he wanted to fall in and almost lose his life. I literally had to bite my tongue not to yell at his parents for being so irresponsible. Instead, I sat and watched letting my anger and bitterness build.
Dad had tears in his eyes as we let the scene sink in. I just sat there realizing that the half drink I had already consumed made me tipsy, almost to the point of being drunk. I was drunk the day you died and I was almost drunk the day this little boy almost died. One difference remained: I instantly became sober, realizing we were stuck in a rip tide and knew what I had to do. I instantly realized the effect of the alcohol that I had consumed when I saw that little boy come up from struggling in the water.
Thinking back on that day, I know that it is situations similar to those that will make me grow and open up about you, about the last day we shared together, and about the loss and pain that I will have to face for the rest of my life. Despite all the anger and underlying hurt, I still am looking forward to being reconnected to the ocean as it holds a special place in my heart.
No fears and limitless, MHF
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