Thursday, December 25, 2025

When surfers die

Dedicated to my brother, Tommy Shay, who died Christmas Day in Orlando from cancer complications.

Paddle out, man. Dig deep, feel the tide’s pull as you stroke against it. Surf is bitchin’ today. A storm heads through, leaves behind a five-foot swell that breaks clean in the offshore wind. You paddle with the swell, ocean feathers around you and something magnificent jumps in your chest as you glide with the wave. This moment will last forever. You kick free and head back to the breakers to find a circle of surfers in a becalmed sea. One holds an urn of ashes. In it are beach sunrises, great waves, friendships. The ashes drift with the sea. One last time, you paddle out to meet the sun.

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