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I am drowning!

No, not literally; not like when I was five years old. I was on holiday in Jersey with my parents and my Dad was playing ball in the swimming pool with my cousins. The ball came out and onto the side, and as I threw it back, I also threw myself in – at the deep end. Yes, you’ve guessed it – I couldn’t swim at the time – my Dad pulled me out, coughing and spluttering. The proverbial drowned rat. But I digress.

I am drowning in a sea of grief.

The waves crash over my head, dragging me deeper, catching me in the strong currents of sorrow. I tumble over and over, hitting my head on the beautiful coral; cuts ooze with my life blood attracting sharks. They circle around me, closing in for the kill and all I can think of is joining my Mum, ending the in exhaustive pain of her passing. Even if the sharks take their time, biting a bit off here and there, it would be nothing in comparison.

Fish of all colours and sizes dart past as the riptide keeps me submerged; I see them eye me with mild curiosity as they journey on, but I’m blind to the magnificent colours and sleek lines.

Very little has held my interest recently; I fail to appreciate the wondrous sights Mother Nature puts on display. Even now, in the clear depths of the ocean, glimpsing some of Her incredible work, I’m too blind to see.

As I’m catapulted ever deeper by the awesome power of the tide, ancient rocks stand and greet me. I shake hands with each one and am repaid by the shattering of my bones. Pressure builds in my chest, my lungs are on fire, my head woozy from lack of oxygen, yet it won’t take me or let me go.

I start to sink to the bottom. I can no longer see the crested waves crashing above me, nor can I hear the screeching gulls. It’s quiet deep underwater. But, for me, it’s not peaceful – it can’t be while I’m drowning in my misery. It’s too fresh, the wounds too open, the cuts too deep in my heart.

Maybe one day I’ll be able to swim to the surface. Maybe one day I’ll emerge from the darkness of the depths and smile as the sun dries the multitude of tears I’ve shed. Maybe one day I’ll once more appreciate all the beauty the world has to offer. Maybe one day I’ll stop mourning.

Maybe . . .

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