Sorry about the delay! I was swamped with assessments and was unable to find time to write during that frenzy. As a matter of fact, this post is inspired by an assessment topic.
Enjoy!
“What d’you mean, she’s gone?”
I stared at the tall, blonde police officer sipping coffee in our living room. Her face was a portrait of measured calm as she repeated those words, those words that shattered my world, turning them into sharp crystals that drew blood as they struck.
“She was found dead on the shore, a victim of an attack by an armed protestor. He was campaigning against the “Save the Dolphins” campaign and yourmothergotcaughtinthecrossfireimsoverysorry…”, a high-pitched ringing sounded in my ears, my knees buckling under an onslaught of emotions. Mum, my anchor to this world, my confidante, my best friend. Mum, who helped me through the worst of my anxiety and was gone far too soon.
The only thing that dumbly repeated in my mind like a broken tape recorder was, “Blue. She loved blue. Blue like the sea, blue like her eyes, blue like the dolphins, blue like the sky. Gray-blue like those cursed animals, those dolphins she went to campaign for. Blue like the dress she wore when Dad told her she should go to the protest, and blue as she must’ve been as she passed away”.
Storming out the door in a frenzy, tears welled up in my eyes as they spilled, a torrential downpour of hurt, grief and rage, so much rage at everything and everyone around me. You’d think occurrences like this in the 21st century would reduce, but humans are such ever-present, conflict-hungry animals.
I screamed at the poster of her award, a framed picture of her beaming as she stared into the camera, those blue eyes piercing me over and over again. “Head of Environmental Technology”, flashed across my vision, gold-plated letters reminding me of the profession that led to her death.
“I-“, I turned to see my dad gazing at that picture, so much sadness in his eyes. “Laura-“, “GO AWAY”, I screamed. “This is your fault”, I said, my voice dropping to a venomous, embittered growl. Pushing past him, ignoring the hurt painted across his face, I shut myself into my room, shutting myself away from the nightmare that was my reality now. And that was effectively what happened for the next seven months.
I got into fistfights, turning to violence to let out my anger. Counsellors told me, “It’ll get better. Grief is subjective, but you have to try to get better.”
It wasn’t working.
That undying flame, that endless anger ate me up from the inside, as I watched myself yell at my father, push away my friends, watched my grades drop in a downward spiral I couldn’t manage to claw myself out of.
That past self was shut away in a glass jar now, beating her wings as she tried to break free.
Then one night, my dad took me to the beach. The beach, a place we hadn’t visited for 7 months. The beach that used to be Mum’s absolute favourite.
Stepping out onto the sand, memories flashed before my eyes, remnants of before. Like a reel from the 1980’s, images passed through my mind, laughter and joy and love and family and the sun and the blue, blue, gray-blue everywhere like this boundless ocean, like this overwhelming ocean of anger, like those dolphins.
I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t.
But even as I tried to turn back, some unknown force pushed me forward. Eyes glistening, I gazed at the water. “Mum, are you out there?”, I stuttered.
Instead of an answer or a ghost of my mother, a pod of dolphins majestically rose into the air. Twirling, their sleek backs caught the fading sunlight, reflecting into a million different rays. I swear I heard Mum beside me, saying, “Look. There’s the male, and there’s the kids and the beautiful female-“.
I frowned in confusion. There was no female. There was no mother in that pod either.
Yet, these kids jumped around and splashed, a blissful happiness overtaking their adorable faces. They enjoyed, unaware that at any point, their life could end, by a net or a floating piece of plastic. How ironic was it that we, who adored these animals so, were the reasons they were dying?
Yet, they were so peaceful. Yet, they seemed hopeful.
And for the first time in months, a chink in the armour. A light in the darkness appeared and I laughed, for the first time, overcome by a different feeling.
Hope.
Hope for the future. Hope for what was yet to come. Hope for me and my dad.
I turned to my side to see my dad, carrying a box of tacos. He did love gorging himself on those. Grinning at him, I swiped one, eliciting a gasp of indignation, and somewhere in there, surprise too. My heart ached for what had tarnished our relationship, and I leaned into his warmth, munching on the morsels he’d raided the nearby restaurant for. It would take a lot to fix what had occurred, to rebuild our life, but I could try. For him and for me.
Mum always used to say, “Look at their eyes. Look at the way they sparkle, belying such an intelligent mind. Humans have so much to learn from these animals. They are truly wiser beyond measure.”
And as I watched, a dolphin turned towards me, a grayish-blue twinkle in her eyes, seemingly waving her fin in a temporary goodbye.
Mum found peace with the dolphins. Perhaps I could too.
And stop being so blue.
You want to know more about dolphins? Check it out here
Signing off…