I inhale deeply, close my eyes, and am instantly comforted by the scent of crisp air intermingled with salty brine. It saturates my lungs, my mouth, nose, and eyes, heart and mind. It reminds me of you. The gentle, lolling ripples leisurely lick at my skin and soak up the sun-drenched days of laughter and pride. The kind of pride that is unshakeable, even now. I am still proud of the connection that we shared. I could always count on your hands, swift and deft, to give me a push in tough times.

Now looking back, I must admit that I used to hate the sea. It could simultaneously cleanse while it consumed, and ravage as it washed away every impure thing. Yet, it's beauty is strangely intoxicating, and also frightening. But it was you who taught me not to be afraid. With a twinkle in your eye and a rakish smile etched onto your lips, you said to me, "It is the only place where I truly feel like myself".

Once again, I take a deep breath, my lungs, my mouth, nose and eyes, heart and mind are assaulted by the acrid bite of heaving surf. The rapid gushing of belligerent waves violently threaten to overtake everything. Their powerful peaks and crests eagerly batter the shoreline, greedy and unsatisfied, never ceasing their foray. They even spit angrily at a sky that is ashen and delicate like antique lace, while their frothy white fingertips grasp and claw, and render it asunder. Here I am, caught up in this blustering storm. I am submerged in darkness.

Then finally I recall the swift, deft jolt of those familiar hands that landed me here. Finally, the waves win. My breathing stops. My heart fails. I think I finally know what you meant.