A Sea of Memories

The ocean has never looked so lonely. As I sit here staring out onto the miles of sea and sky, I can’t help but feel like there is no one in this world who cares about me. The ocean looks black, like a sea of asphalt. When I was a child, I remember the ocean being the brightest blue I had ever seen, shining in the sunlight. Now the sun doesn’t shine down on me; the sky is gray and covered with clouds, so that no blue is at all visible. I feel like I’m seeing everything in shadows, without any real colors; it’s almost as if God has dimmed down the lights. Shapes and sounds all blur together, except for the gentle lapping of the waves.
I never thought that something that usually makes people feel so alive and happy could make me feel so meaningless and alone. I used to love the beach. Elizabeth and I came here frequently and would just quietly gaze at the ocean together. I never had these feelings when I was with her; then again, I never did what I’ve done now when I was with her. We loved each other. She said that we would be together forever, that she’d never leave me. I had never been so happy. But she was wrong. I lost her about a year ago. I feel like I’m nothing without her. I wonder what she would think of me at this moment; she and God are probably up there talking about me right now. I’ll never see her again because I don’t deserve to go heaven. God will never forgive me for what I’ve done.
As I dig my hands deep into the sand, a million thoughts are running through my brain and I can’t make them stop. I just keep remembering times that were better, times when I was happy. My birthday party in third grade when I got the guitar that I wanted so badly; my first kiss that night at the movies when I was 14; when I got my acceptance letter to college and how proud my parents had looked. I know they’re not proud of me anymore; they’ll never look at me like that again. What have I done to myself? I know that things weren’t going so well, but I made my problems drastically worse.
I don’t even deserve to be here anymore. If I died here on this beach, would anyone even care? They’d probably be happy and say I deserved it. The waves could come up and wash me away, and I’m sure no one would miss me. I throw a rock into the water and watch it sink down in to the dark abyss. At this moment, I think that the rock may have a more purposeful existence than I do. Without the woman I love, I feel helpless.
I remember the exact moment that I met Elizabeth Thompson. I was sitting in biology class in my junior year of college when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and my heart dropped in to my stomach; she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.
“Could I borrow a pencil?” she asked. My palms started to sweat.
“Sure, as long as you return it,” I replied. I was trying to be funny, but she didn’t look amused.
“Of course, thanks,” she answered, rolling her eyes. She must have thought I was such a jerk. I wanted her to like me so badly, and I did everything I could to change her impression of me. The next day, I left a box of pencils on her desk, tied with a pink bow. She smiled as I turned back to see her reaction. The next day I left a single red carnation.
“You’re trying too hard, you know,” she said. “If you want to ask me out, just ask.” I couldn’t believe she had been so blunt. My face turned bright red and I didn’t know what to say. Finally I worked up the courage to answer.
“Yeah, I was wondering if you’d maybe want to catch a movie and go to dinner on Friday,” I said. It felt like my heart stopped as I waited for her reply.
“Sounds like fun. Pick me up at seven?”
“Okay, it’s a date,” I replied.
It was by far the best date I had ever been on. From the moment that I touched her hand, I knew there was a spark between us. I had never felt such an immediate connection like this before. We even left the movie early because we wanted to have more time to just sit and talk. I didn’t want the night to end. When I stood on her front porch that night and slowly kissed her, I knew that I would never find another girl like Elizabeth.
After we had been dating for about a year, I knew that I wanted Elizabeth to be my wife; I couldn’t have imagined spending my life with anyone else. On Christmas Eve in our apartment, I got down on one knee beneath the tree and sparkling lights and asked Elizabeth to marry me. She didn’t even take a breath before she responded yes and jumped in to my arms. This was the happiest moment of my life. I was going to grow old with the most amazing girl I’d ever met; I loved her more than words could describe. I couldn’t wait to live out the great life that we were going to share together.
Then I got the phone call. It was four months into our engagement and it all seems like a daze now that I look back on it. I answered the phone, and the moment the voice on the other line began to speak, I knew something was wrong. All I heard was “Sir… fiancé… drunk driver… sorry.” The phone fell from my hands. I couldn’t even cry at that point; I couldn’t even make a sound. The one thing that I loved the most had been ripped away from me. I rushed to the scene of the accident to find Elizabeth’s car lying in a ditch. The EMTs pushed a stretcher covered by a white sheet. I knew exactly what was under that cloth. I fell to my knees on the wet ground. Lights flashed. Sirens roared. People were running past me. The world around me continued. My world came to a halt.
Everything was out of my control and my whole world came spiraling down. Every day I just realized more and more what I’d lost. I’d never hold her again; I’d never see her walking down the aisle on her father’s arm; we’d never have the bright future that we were looking forward to. Every song I heard reminded me of her and every place and object brought back some memory. I missed her so much and wanted her back more than anything, but at the same time, I just wanted the pain to stop.
Now that I look back, I know I should have lived in her memory and tried to make her proud, but I did the polar opposite. I did absolutely everything wrong. I drank away my problems every night and woke up the next morning having no idea what I’d done the night before. I had a full scholarship to Harvard Medical School in the fall, but I threw it all away. I was kicked out about six months after Elizabeth’s death; I began failing all my classes and picking fights with teachers and students. I was told my attendance was no longer required. My friends and parents tried to help me, but I just shut them all out. I spent my nights sitting at bars, giving the bartender a horrible attitude, and eventually getting kicked out. All my days blended together. I worked at a convenience store most of the day and went to the bars at night. It’s pretty amazing how quickly I went from a Harvard student to a drunken nobody.
I was doing some bad things, but nothing could ever compare to the horrible thing I did last night. I was at O’Hara’s, one of my usual bars, when I saw one of my old friends from college. As he walked over towards me, I tried to avoid eye contact.
“Hey man, how are you doing? I haven’t seen you in ages.”
“I’m fine,” I replied abruptly. I hoped he’d take a hint and leave me alone, but he didn’t.
“I know you’ve been going through some rough times lately. Pam and I have been worried about you. After Elizabeth died you…”
“Just stop. I’m done talking,” I replied angrily as I began to walk out. He wouldn’t quit. He followed me out of the bar.
“Come on, will you just listen to me? I want to help,” he shouted after me. “Anything you need, money, counseling, a place to stay, I’ll give it to you. You just need to forget about the past…” I just wanted to get away from him. He brought back memories of Elizabeth; she and I frequently went out with him and his wife, Pam, and the memories swirled around in my mind. I could picture the four of us sitting at dinner, snacking on appetizers and laughing at each other’s corny jokes. Why did he get to be happy with his wife, but I had lost Elizabeth? It wasn’t fair.
I continued to walk away, but he followed me. He ran up to me and grabbed my shoulders, trying to get his point across. I couldn’t take it. A moment of complete rage overcame me and I slammed him up against the wall. I gripped his neck tightly until he was gasping for breath. By the time I had let go, it was too late. His limp body lay on the cold, wet cement and I could only stare at what I had done. I had known I was not the greatest person, but I never imagined I would be able to kill someone. As my rage subsided, I began to think. He had a wife and a son. He was trying to help me and I ended his life forever. What right did I have to do that? I’m not even human. I just left him, lying there, staring up into the sky with an indescribable look on his face. Like a coward, I got into my car and drove away.
I don’t think I was really running from the police. I knew there would be plenty of evidence and that I was going to get caught, but I just couldn’t stand there and face what I had done. I stopped at this beach, where Elizabeth and I had come on cool summer nights. I thought that by stopping here, I would rekindle happy memories of her and I and I could at least sit in peace until the police found me. However, I was wrong. I can just think of how ashamed she would be of me. She would never condone the horrific crime I’ve committed, and I know that I’m not worthy of her anymore.
I’m back to sitting here, staring out into the nothingness. I can hear the sirens coming. Most would think I’d be scared of going to jail and maybe even dying myself, but I’m not at all. I have no feeling anymore, unless emptiness is a feeling. The only thing I can think of is the people I’ve let down, all the people that I’ve hurt: My mom and dad, who had once been so proud of me, Elizabeth, who I had loved more than anything, and this man’s family, who I had left fatherless. I see the policemen running closer to me along the sand. I want them to take me; I know prison is where I belong.
I take one last look at the ocean; it looks so lonely, but I know that I don’t deserve to see the beauty in it, or anything else, ever again. The lapping of the waves seems to soften as my hands are brought behind my back. As my handcuffs are secured and rights read, I remember how I had it all. Losing the woman I loved changed my life, but it never had to get to this point. Elizabeth was taken from me and I wasn’t strong enough. I could have paddled against the strong currents in my life, but I only let the tide wash me away.