The sight of water

I have always loved water – the sight of it, the sound of it, and the taste of it. Seeing the ocean and being at the beach have always been things that have calmed and made me happy. Yet oddly today, after we arrived in Toronto and walked along the waterfront here along Lake Ontario, a dark feeling came over me when I remembered that water was the last place my brother was when he left us forever.

Drowning wasn’t what ended his life; it was the blunt trauma caused by the fall. He fell a long way down before hitting the crashing waters under that bridge. And it took the coast guard about 45 minutes to get out there and take his poor, lifeless body out and declare that he was no longer alive. It’s as though when I look at water now, I can’t feel the same way about it anymore because throughout today, I just kept on thinking about my brother’s body sinking, then eventually floating to the surface, his spirit gone.

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