The tsunami

It has been thirteen years and yet another Christmas has passed. Yet another Christmas that has reminded me of you. I still remember your warm hugs and the smell of your hair. How irritated you made me every morning when you woke me up. How much love you gave me and how you always stood by my side when life was tough. I wish I could rewind the time and take back those words I said that morning, thirteen years ago.

I slammed the door behind me when I walked out of our hotel room that morning. Why did we have to start the morning with an unnecessary argument? I was pissed but when I saw the sun, the bright blue sky and when the Thai-weather hit me right in the face my mood instantly changed. This was going to be a good day. The sun, the ocean, the beach, what could possibly go wrong? The sand was so hot it almost burnt my bare feet. Children were playing in the water. I went down to the shore. The warm water rinsed over my feet and cooled me. I spotted a sunbed that was not taken and laid down.

After a while I wondered why my mother had not come yet. I looked around to see if she was laying in any of the other sunbeds further away but she was nowhere to be seen. I picked up my phone from my bag, the clock was almost 10. I wondered where she was. She had never been inside for this long. Perhaps she was still bitter about what happened in the morning. All my thoughts were interrupted as I looked towards the vast ocean. The water was rapidly receding leaving the beach scattered with beached jellyfish. At first I did not understand what was going on. I just stood there unknowing of what event was occurring before me. A shiver passed down my spine and I immediately felt a bit uneasy. After hastily gathering my things I started moving back towards the hotel to look for my mother. The walk did not take long as the hotel was situated right by the beach. As I reached the stairs leading up to the hotel pool area I could hear a commotion from the beach behind me. I turned around only to be met by the sight of people, men, women and children running away from the beach. Looking up towards the horizon I spotted a colossal wave. A ten meter high wall of water approaching at immense speed. Paralyzed by fear I stood there, my feet cemented to the ground unable to do anything but stare. Seconds later I snapped out of it. I dropped everything that I was carrying and started running. I managed to reach the back of the hotel building before it hit, the tsunami. Tonnes of water came flooding past either side of the building carrying chairs, tables and parasols. That is all I managed to see before I too was swept away. The current dragged me below the surface and I could no longer distinguish up from down nor left from right, like being trapped in a giant washing machine. I can not recall ever being afraid during this time. My body was completely dedicated to trying to survive. Being dragged up and down I managed to take a few breaths. Suddenly I managed to get hold of a tree branch. I pulled myself up and climbed to safety. I noticed a gaping wound on my left leg but felt no pain. I could only think about my mother. Where was she? Was she safe?

That tree became my rescue that day. I sat there for a good couple of hours until things had settled down and the things I managed to see during this time I will never forget. Chaos, devastation, injured people and dead bodies. What had once been a paradise was now a nightmare. Below me the water began to disappear but I stayed put. I did not move at all. I had no idea what to do. Around me there was nothing but complete silence, not even birds singing.

I spent a few days at a hospital where they treated the wound on my leg. I got on a flight back home to Sweden without my mother, still not knowing where she was or if she was alive.

Three months later the message I feared came. Her body had been identified and in a coffin it was on its way to Sweden. That day changed my life completely.

Right now I am sitting here next to your gravestone as I always do this time of the year. Certain things can still remind me of you but life has gone on and my grief is not as strong anymore. Although my condition has improved I still, and always will, regret the last words I said to you before I slammed the hotel door that morning, the words: I hate you.