Seashells

We went to the beach this morning to avoid life. Or maybe we were embracing life, I don't know. 

The tide happened to be out and the shell lines were huge. It was a satisfying sight. (Shell lines are the swaths of shells left on the beach when the tide recedes.) Seashells are just evidence of where there once was life. I walked through the shell lines for awhile and was overwhelmed at the amount of life that no longer existed. 

I thought about how many human lives have ended this year, last year, in the last decade, in my lifetime, in the history of the world. It was actually comforting, the idea that Eli was in such good company. 

It has become evident that after a couple of months, a lot of people have moved on from Eli's life and death. That feels especially cruel, even though I know that's about them, not me. There are a number of friends who have not and their remembrance, their compassion, their gentleness is a hand pulling me out of the ocean I'm drowning in. 

I wish I could say it made me feel better, going to the beach. It was nice to get some sun, feel the sand and the water, watch the birds and the clouds, collect a few shells, watch Ty and his buddy play. I don't feel particularly better. I'm glad I went.