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23
‘Death by Water’, T. S. Eliot
Under the surface of the sea, time seems to stand still. Everything is slow. My limbs don’t move as fast as I command them – my arms are as if paralysed and my brain is muddled.
Only instinct allows me to fight my way back up to the surface gradually, where the howling winds whip my hair into my eyes, stinging my face. I can’t open my eyes against the force of the wind and rain pummelling them shut. Having made it back to the surface is not enough. Every wave that hits pushes me under, over and again, and every time it takes me longer to resurface – and when I eventually do, I’m weaker and weaker. I can’t do it anymore…
I can’t believe I’ve left the safety of dry land to come here to die!
And no one except Maisie would actually care. Which scares me more than death itself. Not to have anyone cry for you, ache for losing you. Only to havebeenfor a fleeting moment and then be gone, like a drop of water in the ocean, never to be found again, if not lifeless. It’s unbearable – more than death itself.
I try to shut out the invading images of the remains of my grey dead body, washed ashore one day in the distant future. No one will know who I am. No one will fall to their knees in anguish and cry my name. Not Stephen, not even my grandmother.
My mind begins to wander, so I know I’m rapidly losing my core heat. My body is beginning to shut down. My mind is whirring – I’m going off the rails. For some crazy reason, I can see myself when I was born, tiny and helpless. I can hear myself crying, keening. And I suddenly realise that I’m still in the same position after all these years. Tiny and helpless. Crying and keening for an embrace that will simply not arrive. And the rest of it? Besides becoming an English teacher, what have I managed to do with my life? What mark have I made? Who will remember me?
And it hits me. I never really counted for anyone. No one really loves me. No one will really miss me. And so this is it. The end of my short, dreary life. And it’s meant nothing to anyone, not even my own parents. I begin to bawl. Helplessly, hopelessly bawl, my cries lost in this immense ocean, along with the cries of the wailing wind…
But wait – it’s not just me. There’s another sound on the wind. Another keening sound. Or is it the wind itself, ringing in my ears? I can’t tell.
I try to listen beyond my own gasps for air, but there’s nothing. My mind is playing more tricks on me. I’m wondering what my last thought will be. Certainly not a family or a husband or children. Now, I’ll never have children. I’ll never be able to have a family and live to tell them about the horrifying moment I faced death.
Because I can’t keep fighting for every breath much longer. My mind is numb. I can’t think anymore, I can’t stay awake. I make an effort even to remember to breathe. It’s so much easier just to stop fighting and let go, surrender to the cold darkness enveloping me.
I think of Joe, Tommy, Verity and Beth and all of my students. They’ll grow up, live and love…
My mind is completely lost now, and it’s so sorrowful, to know you’re letting go and unable to do a thing about it, like a spectator. You see it all but can’t intervene because it’s much too late.
‘Emmie!’ comes the wind again.
From zero perception, I’m suddenly aware of my surroundings. I can now again feel the cold, the fear, the helplessness of my situation. And then steel arms envelop me, pulling me, but I don’t know which way. Someone is in the water – coming towards me? How is that even possible? My mind is playing tricks on me.
And in one irrational, instinctive moment, Iknow.
Jago!I want to call out, but I have no voice. I want to reach out to him, but I have no body.
He shouts in my ear, but it’s barely a whisper, carried off by the raging sea, followed by something else.
I cry out as his grip on me tightens. It’s the only way I know he’s still there, because I can’t see him, but I can feel his hand around my wrist, like a lifeline. In this defining moment, all I know and all I am depend on his determination and ability to hang on to me despite the waves that continue to crash into us as if they had a personal reason to pound us to the bottom of the sea.
All around us is hell. I can’t tell up from down. Nor can I see an inch from my nose. I hang on to him like a rock. But he’s just a man – practically nothing against the fury of nature. I can’t believe that he’s going to drown in this storm while trying to save me. Foolish, foolish man!
‘I’ve got you!’ he shouts over the roaring in my ears.
And I can do nothing – not even hang on for dear life anymore, because I have no strength left in my body, not a single drop. But I can feel sorrow. Sorrow for Jago, who’s out here in this madness, with nothing to hang on to. Where is his boat? Surely he didn’t swim out in this weather… That would be madness. He must have fallen in, in an attempt to save me.
Save me. No, save yourself, Jago. I’m too far gone now. Too far gone to come back. Save yourself…
