His hand arranges the flowers as if they were on the fields.
Would you call it a tragedy when you died at your own will?
When the water took him, took away the rest of his tomorrows, I wonder what he could have felt. When he had decided that he wanted to die, I wonder if he was afraid. When the salt water filled up his lungs and he couldn’t breath, he probably thought it wasn’t exactly ‘dying’. It was painful but he wasn’t dying. Because he could feel the pain. And he was alive. At least that’s what he would remember until the life he had slipped away from his sinking body. He outlived the suffering and the fear. He didn’t die. He was just gone. Not entirely dead. He’ll be part of the ocean and he will live in the memories of the people who watched him die— whom he begged to let him die. It was life after his death.
I don’t know if that was really his intention. Maybe he didn’t even think of anything. And maybe… that’s the beauty of it.