Ronnie had spotted the wreckage of the small plane, and he’d called the Coast Guard to report it. He’d given all of the crucial information that allowed us to find it in the shallow waters. As we circled it in our boat, I wondered who the passengers had been and where they’d been headed when their dreams came to an end! As Joshua and I suited up to dive unto the site, I let my mind wander.
Maybe they were newlyweds who hired a plane to take them to an uninhabited island where they could be alone, away from crowds of tourists and those ubiquitous tourist shops selling all types of kitsch to separate you from your money. Or maybe they had been a couple wanting to celebrate twenty-five years of marriage at the top of the mountain where they’d shared their first kiss nearly thirsty years ago.
As we worked to remove the two bodies of the passengers and the body of the pilot, I was thankful for the water that hid my tears. I couldn’t help thinking that they had boarded the plane with dreams and hopes for the future, not knowing of the fate that awaited them as they crossed the beautiful blue waters of the sea.
I prayed over the remains, hoping that they were at peace wherever eternity was for them. I also sent up a prayer of thanksgiving that the families could now find closure, letting go of hopes that their loved ones would be found alive, like Tom Hanks in Cast Away.
As we swimmed toward our boat, I looked back at the plane, which would be salvaged in a couple of days so that the NTSB could determine what happened to cause it to go down in the sea. I marveled at how quickly life’s dreams can be lost, and, just as I do each time I am called to a similar scene, I promise myself to live each day as if it were my last.
Fictional story written for Photo Challenge #313 from Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie.