Erik Larson

Dec 8, 2008

The Sea, Part Two

The undulations of the sea lofted him up, and rolled him helplessly down, into the chaotic brine and ocean. He choked. He choked more. His eyes went wide as adrenaline surged, his limbs flailing, then a massive push down into the sea. The spots that grew red in his consciousness grew brighter; his mind reeled and he was strangely cognitive, caught in frantic vascilating between drawing breaths of air or clenching shut to stem so much more choking. He didn’t get it right. Water came into his lungs with fantastic pain and no air. No air. He drew in on himself. Where was he? Suddenly, and quit unexpectedly an insight. It should be fine , he thought, suprised at his calmness. Calm. That’s what he was forgetting. Calm brought his dreams and his thoughts and then the painless morphinic images where he saw his father. His father was smiling, looking at him. God, his whole life washed over with calm. He was fine. He had always been fine.

The boulder that struck his head got no prize. He had ceased to care, and then he knew no more.

His death lay heavy on the hearts of the living. It was perplexing, and tragic. Perhaps. But perhaps in no one’s view in particular , it could be said that his last moments were in fact very much like his first moments, and strangely just so innocent and divine. There was, of course, no one there to say it.