Sinking Ship

Content note: Contains scenes of parental panic and distress; may be upsetting to readers

The boat was sinking; it was clear that there was no hope. All of us were battered by the 25-foot waves that were tossing the ship as if it were a toy.

But that was not the worst thing.

The worst had happened the night before. After arrogantly obliterating every safety boundary I’d laid out for my 14-year-old daughter on our Caribbean cruise, I ripped into her harder than I ever should have.

Fear had made me cruel. She took off without money, in a foreign country, ran to a taxi, jumped in, and was gone. Seven seconds. That was all it took, and I was left shocked, bereft, and directionless. Fourteen years old, and she disappeared into a taxi in nowhere land.

Usually calm, my composure had been decimated by the unimaginable duress I had endured as I frantically searched for her, praying, praying, praying. Oh God, I could only pray.

The boat was ravaging my body as I was thrown to and fro. My shoulders were bruised from slamming into the corridor walls. I felt beaten and broken in body and spirit. Sharp pain screamed through my left elbow, but my fear almost silenced it.

I was sure God was lamenting the sorrowful cries, having heard my prayers on repeat, as I begged, pleaded, and laid my mother-heart open at least 1011 times. My tears stung my cheeks, which earlier had become raw with sunburn as I ran up and down the streets uselessly hoping I could find even one clue as to how… just how, to find my beautiful child.

My beautiful child.

The howling wind assaulted my ears, along with the sound of metal slowly folding into itself. And oh… the screams. Unbearable devastation rose from the depths of human souls crying to heaven. Oh God… I did not want to hear this. I could not hear this. I cried for them. I cried for my daughter. I cried.

Oh, her beautiful face. It swam before me, pulling me, tearing me towards wherever she was on that fate-wrecked ship.

The wind howled on as the waves raged against the ship’s body.

Surrounded by unbearable pleas, prayers, and cries to heaven, the one thing I just could not, could not take assaulted me. Sobbing children.

I shrank inside myself, not able to hear their little voices so innocent and afraid. How could I stay oriented enough to look for my own? Panic broke through as I slammed my hands over my ears.

I was already drowning in this hurricane from fear.

My own heart’s cries were almost muted by the torrential despair around me. Everyone knew.

Their story was ending. So was mine.

Fear consumed me. I could think only of my daughter alone somewhere on the ship, and the last words between us were still haunting me with their ugliness.

I had to find her. I had to!

My angry words hung like a thick, corroded shroud placed in the midst of our usual stream of laughter, love, thoughtfulness and respect.

I hated what I said – I hated myself for saying it. I knew it was from stress and worry stretched open for the eight hours that we were on the island. But they were angry, ugly words. Ugly, ugly words.

I had to find her, but I couldn’t. I pushed against the crowds of terrified human souls living their last moments, and still I could not find her. The cold, pelting water matched the rising terror in my chest.

I could only imagine her level of panic as she searched for me, with those damned, ugly words the only bridge between us.

Oh God, I was crying at the thought of her beautiful face crumpling in terror; panicking, aching to find me.
I couldn’t, I just couldn’t let myself think of this. I just had to find her.

I did not want to name it, but the ending had already begun. I knew. I just knew.

It could not end this way. We were so close.

The sparkle of her ocean-coloured eyes flashed before me, the way they did as she laughed with her head tilted toward me. My heart collapsed.

I couldn’t bear the truth of what was happening, or the thought that she might leave this world believing I was still angry with her. I knew her; she would be panicked, hyper-focused, thinking, “Mommy is really angry with me, I let her down so badly, and now everything is over, and I can’t make her happy again.”

She cared so much. She loved so much.

“Oh God, please help me find her so that I can give her one last kiss on the cheek. So that she can see my face and know that all that matters is how very much I love her. So that I can embrace her until the last wave overtakes us. Please, God!”

The ship tilted.

I taste salt; not from the sea, but from the tears falling as I sink into the last prayer for her, the prayer I never finish.

Author Note:
This is a piece that insisted on being written.
~ Easter Ellen

Easter Ellen

~ writing what won’t leave me alone until it is expressed