Into the Deep Blue
via Getty Images
Into the Deep Blue
My mother passed away in July of 2000 and for the next three months I wondered why the world was still turning and how I could possibly assimilate with any of it. By the time Thanksgiving rolled around, I knew I just needed to escape. So my boyfriend and I put our things in storage and I ran away to Nepal, he to Costa Rica. One month later, we reunited in Vietnam, continued on to Thailand and then broke up in Bali; but that’s another story.
On my journey, all the foreign sights and sounds around me demanded that I surface from my haze and take notice of where I was. But despite the beautiful scenery and people, I refused to acknowledge why I was there, or what had brought me there. For three weeks as I hiked with a group of Australians across the Annapurnas not once did I mention my mother or her death 4 months earlier. I quietly trekked and lived in my grief.
When my boyfriend and I made it to Vietnam, he suggested I try scuba diving. It was a short tandem dive and we only saw the sandy bottom of the sea. By normal diving standards this was a complete bust, but to me – it was amazing… The idea of existing underwater brought every mermaid fantasy to light. I was instantly hooked.
At our next stop in Thailand, we immediately got deep dive certified and jumped on an 8-day live aboard. This is not scuba ‘light’- this is serious. The boat took us out to the Andaman Sea where we did nothing but dive 3 times a day and then pass out with exhaustion at night.
On one of the deep dives, my scuba guide took me around some amazing coral reefs, they were teeming with schools of fish, eels, turtles, mantas and sharks. The water was crystal clear and the most amazing shade of blue everywhere. Colors were bursting from the fish and coral and the only sounds I could hear were the bubbles from my aspirator and my own rhythmic breathing.
We were deep, deep down on the sea floor… It was beautiful.
Soon enough, we were running low on air and out of time. As he signaled me to follow him to start our ascent, he led us away from the reef. We swam out and away until we could no longer see the reef behind us and there was nothing but blue in front of us. We rose 20 feet and then stopped. I was completely enveloped in blue.
There is a moment in diving called perfect buoyancy; when you no longer have to work to stabilize your body in the water around you and you are perfectly suspended using just the air in your lungs and weight of your body. You float effortlessly.
He swam off horizontally and left me in my own sphere of blue. I could not see another person, the surface, or the ocean floor. I worked until I achieved perfect buoyancy then… just floated.
I closed my eyes and opened them again. Blue. Nothing but beautiful, beautiful blue.
I started to feel why I was there. What had brought me there. Why I was in Thailand in the middle of the Andaman Sea. I had lost my mother. My best friend.
In this beautiful blue I floated surrounded by the warm water.
I started to feel again. I allowed myself to feel.
Slowly, I started to shed my skin of being the dutiful and grieving daughter.
I took one more look around me and slowly started to kick my fins. Slowly, slowly, I started to ascend, never going faster than my air bubbles above me… slowly, I rose up through the blue.
Then finally, with one last kick I surfaced and saw the bright sunlight that was waiting for me.
Wow, what a beautiful, sad and poignant story – I’m so sorry that you lost your best friend, but also glad that you have started moving again “into the deep blue.”
I think any time we lose someone close to us, we go through a period of not knowing how we can go on. And then there’s that moment… You shared yours beautifully.
Sar – I can easily imagine your feeling of wonder at how the world could be still be turning. Your strength is an inspiration to me. I love you. xoxo
I cried. Now I am going to have restless sleep missing my Granny. I hope you have found peace within yourself and around you. Losing someone you love so deeply is hard. ((Hugs))
Simply beautiful. I, too wonder how the world keeps going. I felt like I was floating with you. I’m sure your mom’s presence was felt at that moment of buoyancy. And I can’t wait to hear the rest of the story in Bali. *wink*
That’s so beautiful. I can only imagine the peace under the sea like that!
Beautiful.
Being able to feel again is such a breakthrough. To have that moment is such a place of beauty is a gift.
Diving can be cathartic- something about floating in the water is amazing.
I enjoyed reading your description of diving. I am much too much of a wimp to actually go diving. I refuse to swim with things that can eat me. I did have a vicarious moment where I felt as though I was floating there with you in the deep deep blue. Beautifully written.
Sara,
You are a gifted writer! I read this entry this morning and it stuck with me all day. Reading your blog is such an escape. I feel privileged to be a part of it. Thanks for sharing such intimate thoughts and feelings.
Take care..xoxo Deepika
this was beautiful. really!
I’ve always been terrified of scuba diving and swimming in water where I can’t touch the bottom, but your piece made me want to try it! Right now! You intro paragraph was great…I really like the bit about your travels with your boyfriend and where they ended. I think it a sweet beautiful piece of irony that you finally acknowledged your source of grief in the largest pool of tears in the world. Well done!
Coming by from TRDC. This was absolutely beautiful. I have always wanted to dive but am terrified of drowning or not finding my way back. I could see everything. Having lost my father I know that pain you carry, and how raw it can remain. Just beautiful.
Visiting from RDC
This is magical. I’ve never tried diving but I can see it is something you should do in your life if you can. Your descriptions left me feeling like I was floating there in the azure blue with you.
Magical
This was amazing.. I love how the basic elements of nature can bring us back in touch with ourselves and our feelings. You captured this beautifully.
I’m here from TRDC and pleased I clicked on your link.
Having lost both of my parents, I can understand how your grief needed time. I think this story is beautiful because you made your journey through your grief by traveling and experiencing new things.
Sometimes it’s good to take grief on a trip and not let settle too deep inside you. I also think you found the perfect medium in which to let it go. I think water is the most healing thing there is.
You write very well and I enjoyed this story:~)
Wow.
This was a beautiful piece of writing and such a lovely way to share the story of your rebirth. I felt like I was right there with you – the calm, the waters, the blue.
Beautiful.
My mother has a saying – “understated elegance.” That’s how I would describe this. Gorgeous. What an incredible experience. Thank you so much for sharing that moment.
One day I will dive. I can’t wait.
A truly beautiful personal narrative. I’ve never dived, but I kind of feel like I have now. But the moment of perfect buoyancy? I have felt that, though never in the water.
That was absolutely gorgeous!
What a fabulous ending!
Oh, Sara…this is spectacular.
That small moment of perfect buoyancy sounds remarkable.
You captured that feeling so well…you built your moment so carefully that I looked around and I was there with you. Surrounded by beautiful blue.
Truly lovely, Sara.
That whole scene was just cathartic, finally coming to that place within yourself, helped by the beauty of nature surrounding you, were you finally allowed yourself to feel and be free.
Beautifully captured.
You captured this moment of rebirth beautifully.
Gorgeous. Beautifully crafted, beautifully told. Such deep grief, I’m sure, but what seems like a new beginning as well. Thank you for sharing this.
wow, what a truly moving post. so much courage to post this, and so much beauty within the story. thank you for sharing with us.
So beautiful. I dove once in Hawaii and you brought the feeling of being there back. I love the perfect buoyancy and how that captured the physical and emotional at the same time.
Born again. I am speechless. And honored to have read it.
Your story is real. It is raw. The places you visit I can’t relate to but this: “I quietly trekked and lived in my grief.” This is something with which I can relate. And that is the point.
Beautifully told.
Haven’t caught up on TRDC posts yet but came over via your spotlight on Nichole’s blog.
I can just imagine how you would have been feeling after losing your mom, and I felt the peace as you worked through those feelings on your dive. What a beautiful way to find that light again.
PS Love your blog name. Feel free to join in on Fledgling Friday on my blog – support for new bloggers. http://farewellstranger.com/2011/03/03/fledgling-friday-link-up-march-4-edition/
Beautiful and relatable. Sigh – no other words…your post and my post are similar and I love them both!
This was so fantastic. Every part. I was jealous of your travels, jealous of your bravery, jealous of your experiences, all the while feeling so heartbroken for you about your mother. This is written beautifully. Thank you so much for sharing!
Beautiful! Wishing you continued peace….
Found you through Nichole’s Small Moments.
What a wonderful post perfectly describing part of the grieving process. I lost my mom, my best friend, in Nov. of 2009. I write a lot about her on my blog, too, and miss her like crazy!
This was beautiful, poignant, amazing.
My first scuba dive I was hooked – there is something about breathing underwater, the peace and serenity that surround you. Maybe it reminds of us those cozy months spent incubating in the womb… A perfect place to be reborn.
I need a tissue.
Saw your post on Small Moments Spotlight and came to read.
These are beautiful images Sara, painted in beautiful words.
I wish you had not endured the loss. But I treasure that you could share this moment with me so beautifully.
What beautiful story. I too have lost both my mother and father and can completely relate to the fact that how can the world keep spinning. You story was inspirational and touching. Thank you for sharing your experience.
Having lost my father in my early 20s, this piece really touched me. Thank you. You are an amazing writer, woman and friend.
Wow…that was beautifully written. What a defining moment! I am glad you had that moment to allow you to move forward.