I am a beach bum this week. At least I was until about 2:30PM. I was at the beach, burning my skin, getting some rays, avoiding jelly fish, and then the unthinkable happened.
I wish it wasn’t so. But it was. A RED/PURPLE flag flew today. And that meant rip tide, and nasty critters. The nasty critters were enough to keep me out of the water.
The rip tides were the rest of the story.
A man drowned.
He went in to help his sons who had been swept of in a rip tide.
He went down for 30 minutes… others rescued…. the boys are safe.
The boys no longer have a father.
The wife no longer a husband.
The ocean is an unpredictable mistress.
The ocean killed today.
And I, what do I do with that? Nothing? No. There is pain, and sadness. There is the memory of his prone body being brought to shore on a surf board by two other rescuers, heroes. And there is the memory of asking, do you need a nurse? For I had just met one today, sitting and chatting in the sun and surf. But no. They didn’t.
There is the memory of his prone body, pushed into a fetal position. His wife and another nurse hovering over him. And the rescue people coming to perform CPR on him.
I thought he was okay. I went back to my turf to tell my family, “be careful.”
They, we, all of us, we believed the man was okay because the rescue people were trying to “help” him. But really, he was already dead. They were only acting like he could be saved to keep the hysteria down. Later on, I learned the truth when two red flags were displayed and another family said, “a man drowned today.”
I can’t fathom being a rescue worker doing this kind of work.
I can fathom the pain of loss.
So to that family, my extreme sympathies and condolences…