[A short story I wrote based on a scene from the movie Titanic. The scene moved me and allowed my imagination to write this story. The lullaby in the story is a version of a song I wrote for the boys when they were very young.]

A Mother's Final Memory

We knew from each other's eyes that today was our last day of life. Salt water now trickled from beneath the cabin door and the lights flickered continuously. All was quiet, if not peaceful, as the ship gently rocked. We were in God's hands. I could tell from the sudden silence that the engines were now shut down. I hoped that, with God's grace and compassion, the fatal fumes from the engine room would fill our cabin before would the icy water. The children silently stared at the glistening floor as though hypnotized, or paralyzed, by what was taking place. They cuddled closer to me on the bed as I continued to read what I knew to be their last bedtime story. My voice produced words, but my mind's heart had drifted elsewhere. I thought of the now wonderful memories of crying babies and sleepless nights and carpet stains and runny noses. I also thought sadly of the “too expensive” ballet lessons in the “next year” guitar. I thought of the children's father, waiting in New York, with whom they would never meet. I thought of our jammed cabin door. There was panic in the hallway as women and children were prodded upward to the main deck. More haunting, however, were the sounds of the painful goodbyes to those beloved husbands and fathers being left behind with the assurance of no lifeboats. The icy water, now knee-deep, continued its steady assault on our cabin. I drew the children ever closer to my fast-beating heart and gently brought the blanket to our shoulders. As story book words continued to escape my mouth, I again drifted, this time, to a letter that would never be written: 

“My dearest Arthur, by now you have read of our tragedy. As I write, our cabin is filling with seawater and I suspect we have but an hour left in this life. We are cold. But in each other's arms, we are managing these final hours quite well. The children's eyes tell me they have accepted God's call for us to Heaven. We have looked beyond each other’s tears and have unified our souls and hearts for the journey ahead. As I glance out our window, I pray for the survival of those children being lowered to lifeboats. They look so frightened against the backdrop of flames reflecting off the water. Arthur, your children were loving and brave and I only wish, in this moment, that the obligations of war had not owned you for these past years. You would have been proud had you met them. In the end, we held each other tight and prayed quietly that we will remain together in our next life. We reflected not on today's desperation but on the love and brief happiness we have shared together in this life. May God bless you, Arthur, and please know that the end was peaceful despite accounts you shall read. Your children were wise and brave beyond their years. We shall always be with you.”

Hardly had I expected the simple pleasure of seeing one last sunrise. But there it was. A beautiful bouquet of morning sun before my very eyes. Etched in my mind so clearly were the wonderful sunrises and sunsets the children and I had shared by the docks back home. There, we would update our journals, play games or simply sit quietly to ponder the power and beauty of that magnificent sun. Often would we listen to the dolphins close out the day with their beautiful hymns watching them take their last splashes before retiring beneath the surface for the night.

I could no longer hold back my tears. Our bed, our bodies, were now covered by the ocean and the children too began to cry in a way I've never seen before. Helpless, and with moments left, we cried uncontrollably in each other's arms. We hugged as though to keep each other's hearts from crumbling and could no longer refrain from screaming. In unison, we screamed and screamed frantically, perhaps in hopes to wake ourselves from this nightmare. We stood on the bed, still hugging, to gasp for one last precious gulp of air from this world. So quickly was the ocean rising and so quickly were we now to die. I remembered a lullaby my mother used to sing: 

”With each passing day, too much time slips away, on this carousel ride we call life. Little hands, little feet, bluest eyes, what a treat, it's a girl what a beautiful sight. Butterflies, dress up hats, muddy shoes chasing cats, cookie dough on her nose, it's alright. Chocolate smiles, sleepy eyes, belly laughs till she cries, I've a wonderful feeling tonight.”

A sense of calm came over me and I looked toward the cabin window. There I saw the sun and the sea. I then settled into forever silence with the loves of my life.