There are no lessons of survival for the survivors.
Lessons of Survival
She could only stare straight ahead, her mind locked on the blueness of the water being swallowed by emerald greens, as the sea swirled and created a vibrant turquoise so exquisite, the only option was to be mesmerized by it. The white shore reflected the water. Sunbathers were happy, soothing their skin as they lay on the sand.
She had mourned. She had cried. People had called and stopped by. There were trays of food she’d left behind in a refrigerator she had no intention of ever cleaning again. She would not go back. She would leave that to the cleaning service. Her name had not been on the rental agreement, and so, the rent would go unpaid, and she could walk away.
The accident happened on a slippery night. The rain had been unrelenting. She had warned him to drive safely. Why hadn’t he listened? Always pushing the limits with his car. Speeding, he had reached for his phone that had slipped between the seats. The car flipped. He was belted in, but the way the car moved, it pummeled the roof. When the ambulance and police arrived, there was no hope.
There are no lessons of survival for the survivors.
Except to sit on a beach and breathe. Breathe for what was, what may be. Remember to never forget. Be angry and let go of anger. Smile when you know you must.
A wedding had been planned. His time on Earth far too short.
That time had not been enough.