The Anniversary

I saw Harry standing on the jetty looking across the estuary.  He had his hands deep in the pockets of his familiar sheepskin coat.  He heard my footsteps and turned to face me. His cheeks were red.I suspected it was due to his hip flask rather than the wind.

“Hello George” he said. “How’s everything with you?”

“That last year’s gone by too quickly” I answered.

“Don’t they always now”.

“Is it just us two?” I asked.

He looked past me towards the promenade and then sideways at the car park.

“I got a text from Dougie to say he’d try and make it.”

“What’s the situation with him at the moment?”

“Still in remission, last I heard”.

“Just couldn’t stop smoking” I said. “It always catches up with you”.

“Yeah” said Harry.

He turned to look at the sea again.  I spotted Dougie walking towards us leaning heavily on a walking stick. His long overcoat was undone and I could see he was wearing the brown double breasted suit he’d had for years.

“He’s here, he made it” I said.

“Hello lads, been here long?”

“No just arrived” answered Harry.

The three of us stood together and studied the view.  The memories of those events so many years ago may have had the sharp edges rounded over time but were none the less vivid to us all.  We stood in silence each individually encapsulated with our trauma knowing we also shared it together.

We all knew the exact spot the paddle steamer had sunk.  Each year I would feel the same churning in the pit of my stomach as the memory of that terrible day unfolded and slowly became a reoccurring nightmare over the intervening years.  It was still a sharp and sickening experience. As I looked out at the water I was transported back again to those awful moments.  The grinding of metal, the lurching of the boat, the coldness of the water.  The four of us went over the side together with scores of others all fighting for our lives.  In the melee that ensued I never saw my wife Claire again despite calling her name hysterically.  What I did witness was something that engraved itself in my head forever.  My two young sons frantically trying to stay afloat with my attempts to reach them thwarted by the bodies and people’s flailing arms and legs between us. Then the numbing terror as their two young heads sank below the surface before I was there.

 

Over the first few years, the anniversary of the tragedy was marked by relatives casting wreaths onto the water from this same jetty.  The assorted religious leaders gave comfort to some but not for me.  The crowds got fewer and people moved on with their lives.  After a number of years eight of us congregated at this spot but now there were only three.

“Well, I’ve got to go” said Dougie.  “My son has to get somewhere.  I have to tell you that I won’t be here next year”.  He suddenly looked very frail.

“The cancer’s back. They’ve given me six months”.

Both of us stared at him.  Even though we knew he was ill, it was still a shock.

“I don’t know what to say Dougie” I said.

“Nothing to say” he replied. “It’s been nice knowing you both. Pity our lives together have been for this reason and not some other circumstances”.

He turned and slowly walked towards the car park.  After a few minutes Harry and I followed him away from the water’s edge.

“I won’t be here next year either” said Harry.  “I don’t want to turn up and be the only one looking out at that spot of water.  My sister’s on her own now and has asked me to move down to Dorset.  There’s a flat attached to her house and there’s nobody here for me now”.

“I understand” I replied.  “Well I hope it all works out for you”

“Thanks George”. He looked thoughtful for a few seconds.

“That awful day changed my life completely as I know it did for you”.  “I’ve never got over it but now it’s just a paragraph in some local history booklet and meaningless to anybody but us. So this is goodbye George, all the best for the future”.

He strode away from the jetty.

 

I watched him go, strangely not feeling any emotions about what had just played out.  We usually went to the café on the seafront to catch up on the last twelve months but they had both walked off not allowing me an opportunity to share my news with them.

You see, I hadn’t lost all my family in that awful accident.  I had an older son who had been at University at the time.

 

Just after the previous anniversary, he’d contacted me after many years of estrangement.  I received a letter from him.  It  detailed from his point of view how I had dealt with the aftermath of it all and more importantly how my self-absorbed depression had not taken into consideration that he’d also lost his family.I had  given him no comfort or understanding of the grief he had suffered. He explained his feelings candidly and made me understand and accept the hurt I had caused him.  He went on to explain that he wanted a reconciliation between us because I had become a grandfather. Twin girls.  He was adamant that my inclusion in their lives would be important to them now and in the future.  I was shocked at this sudden change in my life which  overwhelmed me with emotion and future purpose.  I replied with what I suppose was a clumsy but sincere apologetic explanation. We corresponded and met on Skype giving me a different and positive view of everything.

I had to be here today to see the water one last time and explain out loud all that was happening.  I would not be here next year, standing on my own.  In ten day’s time I would be flying to New Zealand.  The memories would always be with me but now there was a new life to share and new lives to love.