Light On the Water

This story explores the theme of suicide and may be disturbing or distressing for some readers. Should you experience distress or are considering suicide, you can dial 9-8-8 or text HOME to 741741 at any time to speak with a counselor. BYU students could also contact Counseling and Psychological Services
at 801-422-3035 with services available day or night and on weekends.

It was nearly pitch-black when we made our way down to the beach. The path was so well-worn that the packed dirt could've been mistaken for stone; we didn't really need it to guide us anyhow. Every member of the company knew the way their ancestors had walked, and the crashing of the waves below served as
our compass.

This month, I had volunteered to walk toward the back of the company. In my youth I'd race my
siblings to see who could first touch the soft, white sands—but now that I'd grown older, I found I preferred to carry the ceremonial silks with the elders who walked more slowly.

"Will you dance this time?" One of them, Hilda, leaned over close to whisper to me.

"I'm not sure," I replied quietly.

The gentle woman nodded in understanding. "It's still new—the hurting. He isn't really gone, you know. And he'd want you to dance with us. To feel light touch your feet again."

I looked up at the dark sky above us, blinking back a bit of wetness in my eyes. There weren't
words I could give to Hilda to explain the things I'd felt since my brother died. The heaviness that had grown such thick, dark roots in my lungs. The invisible, unforgiving sap that seemed to stick to every part of me. Bjorn was no longer here; his footsteps did not walk these ancestral paths the way the others did.

"It's so very dark," was all I said.

Whooping calls floated up to meet us as the front half of the company reached the beach. Rolling clouds became ringed with silver borders, and I knew the moon was behind them. I silently wished for it to show its face.

I helped Hilda and the other elders distribute the ceremonial silks to each member of the company. As animal skin tunics were replaced by soft, flowing fabrics, a reverent hush fell over even the youngest of the group. Friends and family helped each other wrap their hands in white; somewhere, someone was tuning their stringed instrument while another warmed up quietly on their flute. I sat numbly on a small piece of driftwood, wrapping silks around my own hands and feet, not really thinking
about anything at all.

A cry went up. "It's nearly time!"

I watched as the group gathered excitedly at the edge of the water; an electric hum of energy
danced between each body as all eyes turned upward toward the sky. Large, cotton clouds were slowly rolling by, and behind them followed moonlight. There was a breath, perhaps five heartbeats, of total silence. Even from the waves.

And then the light hit the sand, washing the whole landscape in a milky blanket of soft blues.

The musicians began to play a bittersweet melody as the people on the beach stepped out onto the water. Music swelled, and they ran. Bursts of light flashed across the water's surface at each place a silk-wrapped foot found purchase. Within moments, the whole of the company was out on the waves, leaping,
twirling, sharing in the moondancing ritual that our people had been performing for
generations.

Yet again, I remained on my driftwood seat. The silks on the water seemed to emit a brilliantly
bright light when in the ritual; mine sat quietly muted on the sand in waiting. For some reason, that blackness, that sap, those roots that had taken hold of me, stiffened my legs and stilled my heart in a way that couldn't bring me to step on the water again.

"Believe me when I tell you that old age is the time for sitting." Hilda, now wrapped in her own
luminous white silks, sat down beside me on the driftwood and looked out on the water. "You should be out there, dancing."

"Bjorn taught me how to dance." I attempted to swallow the lump in my throat. Hilda clicked her tongue. "And he was perhaps one of the most beautiful dancers our people have ever seen. You picked an excellent teacher. Even though we all remember the time he tripped over Vale's silks and dumped himself headfirst into the swell!"

Despite my grief, a small laugh escaped me. "Well, the first time, I was afraid of the deep water. I thought I was going to sink right through and be swallowed by the waves. I never was a strong swimmer."

Hilda grew quiet again, placing a hand over mine. "You and I both know that your big brother
would never have let you sink." My breath caught in my throat, and I couldn't keep two tears from slipping down my cheeks. Quietly, I wiped them away. There was nothing else to say, so I just looked at the dancers again. The string musician had ceased his playing, and the flutist was weaving a warm, soft solo through the night.

"You are much too young and have much too far to go to carry this on your own," Hilda's words
almost seemed to mesh with the music. "Give me those heavy, heavy stones you're carrying; I'll hold them for a while, and you can go touch the water again."

"Hilda, I can't." My voice broke. "Bjorn is supposed to be doing this with me. He's supposed to share in this joy. We always tied each other's silks. He helped me get off the sand. He taught me how to do all of this. If I'd have only known what he needed, I could've—"
"Nonsense. Don't you dare put on yourself the blame for his actions. Bjorn was a man, capable of making his own choices. He lives on; he walks with our people."

"But Hilda, suicide is dishonorable—"

"No. You listen to me. He has brought no such dishonor. Bjorn fought the battles that no one can see. He made sacrifices that no one can know. He loves you deeper than you can possibly imagine. He walks with you still. And he is still dancing, child. But you will never know it if you do not step back onto the water and give him the chance!"

I forced my eyes closed, willing my heart to soften. "Okay," I whispered. "Okay. I will try."

"Oh, Sjua. I know that your heart is so broken. But it is not your fault that he died. You are not
alone. You will not sink. I will go with you, and we can find him together."

Standing shakily, I took Hilda's hand, and we stepped across the expanse of sand until chilly
water lapped at our toes. Looking up at the sky, I noticed that all the clouds had left; in their place
stretched a universe of stars, and the clean bright face of the full moon.

Hilda's voice cried out in delight as she pulled me onto the water. My lungs caught for a moment
as the cold water stole my breath. Small break waves curled towards me, and I leapt over them, one after another. A hesitant smile broke across my face as I ran with them, the elder and the waves.

As we ran, pressing farther and farther away from the shore, a new green light flooded behind me so that my shadow was cast across the water ahead. I slowed, pointing, gasping with Hilda, and we turned with the company to look up. Above us, curtains of green light danced across the sky, dipping down and twirling the way my own silks did.

Hilda turned to me. "I told you, Sjua! He's still dancing!" She laughed and spun, basking in it.
My heart swelled, overwhelmed by the color and light and music. I held my arms out to my sides,
bowed to the green lights above me, and smiled up at Bjorn.

And then, together, we danced.