Days 26 to 37

Day 26. My bare feet can now feel the warmth of the sand. As I get nearer to the sea each step I leave behind fills with water and I can watch the sand fold in and erase its memory of my journey across it. Once again the tiny miracles of nature can bring such joy and rekindle the wonder of a child. Gulls circle overhead reminding me of my gloom and fear

Day 27. I step into the water and feel a childhood joy. It’s gently lapping at my ankles feels like the rubbing of a cat as it winds between your legs - soft, warm, calming. As I gaze out to sea I realise that this is the first time I have been in the water since the storm. A flashback from that terrible night makes my body shudder. I can see my family washed over board as I cling to the side. A tsunami of guilt hits me and I fall back limp onto the beach.

Day 28. The beauty of the beach is shattered by the realisation of my cowardice. I let my family down. That is why we were split up. I held onto the boat to save my life rather than go with them. The truth of the real me leaves me ashamed and sick.

Day 29. If I let them down on the night of the storm I will not let them down now. I will redouble my efforts to find them. Whatever sins of the past can be assuaged by the actions of today. I stand and walk down the beach with renewed purpose and energy. Whatever it takes I will find them.

Day 30. The sun is strong and the light bouncing off the sea and the sand produces tricks for my eyes. Along the length of the beach, which seems to stretch to infinity, the waves ebb and flow as a single white line that is fluorescent in its brightness. It is hard to scan the beach in this light.

Day 31. My eyes must deceive me. In the distance I can see three shapes on the beach. Three shapes halfway between the sea line and the hills. I rub my eyes and they are gone but as the kaleidoscopic view caused by the pressure of my rubbing dissolves my eyesight settles again they are there. Unmistakable.

Day 32. I run. I run as fast as I can screaming their names. I run but the distance between us seems not to diminish. It is like a nightmare where no matter how hard you run you cannot cover the distance. This is real but they are just further away than I thought.

Day 33. My screams produce no response. I run and scream in desperation. Getting nearer the shapes begin to take on human forms but I notice the gulls on and around them. I stop running and within me something else stops too.

Day 34. How can I feel like this and not just die. There is nothing. I am empty. I cannot hear, I cannot see, I am a void, a cypher. Words like desolate do not approach how I am feeling. Everything I had is gone and it is my fault. I want the sand to swallow me whole. The racking guilt. They would have wanted me to be like this but they are not here to tell me.

Day 35. I have dug three holes near the rocks. The sand here is stable and does not collapse in on itself. In between digging I have been trying to keep the gulls away. One by one I move them to where they will rest. I cannot believe in a god but I want to say something. I stare at the sky and scream “I love you” as tears falls unstopped

Day 36. With the sand replaced I build a cairn to honour the site. This hard physical work acts as a penance. The blood from my fingers and arms stain the stones as I place them. It feels as it should be. I let them down, left them to die and I too should be hurt.

Day 37. With the work done I sit and sob until there are no more tears. The pain in my head overwhelms me. I understand what a broken heart means but is my head the feels fractured as well. I feel like I could go mad. Ooh, is that dolphin?