I am one of the last people to get to the beach, as I had to change surfboards three times. As I walk down the path by the Manzanita dorms, I see the ambulance and next to it a box full of fresh, colorful flowers. There are all different kinds, but as soon as I see the pink rose, I know to pick it for Hayden. The past week “Roses” by Outkast has randomly been stuck in my head. And as soon as I saw that flower, every part of me said to choose that one.
Stepping off the concrete into the fresh sand, I look up and follow a crowd of wetsuits, while scanning the beach for my teammates. I see Matt and Alex, ready for the water, consoling each other, but still being their playful selves. The ski team is on the way left of the crowd. Eleeza has purple flowers sticking out of her ponytail, looking beautiful in her tribute to Hayden. Others have their flowers tucked in the neck of their wetsuits. I tuck mine all the way, knowing that since it is my first time on a board, I need to keep my flower more secure.
A motion is called by all those about to paddle out, and everyone begins to march, carrying their boards alongside. The line becomes almost single file, and I find myself walking alone, beginning to hum a mantra. I do not know what the mantra is or where inside me it is coming from, but it is instinctive and I recognize the beauty of this ceremony. I watch my feet mark up the sand and see a few petals fall from the rose. I keep singing my mantra and I gaze up to those in front of me.
It is a sacred sight. Growing up with Catholic funerals, where everyone is dressed in black, mourning in a pew, this to me was a new way to honor those fallen. Everyone in wetsuits, carrying bright colored flowers and their personalized surfboards, walking in the sand, just an hour before dusk falls. Being able to see miles of beach and even more miles of ocean. Instead of a pipe organ, the sound of crashing waves fill the air, as does the smell of salt water.
The line stops. I attach my leash and watch how others dive into the waves with their board. I follow the line of ski team members making their way out, but I have trouble. Waves keep knocking me down and I can barely get my leg over my board before another one crashes into me, sending me underwater. I hop back up, using my board as a buoy. Everyone is much farther than me, but I keep trying. I have not pushed myself like this for an activity in a long time.
I keep struggling to stay on my board and the waves keep sending me to the beginning again. Most people have reached the circle out in the ocean and only a handful are behind me. Tears begin flowing out of my eyes as I reenter the salt water again, crying, “I need to be out there for Hayden.”
Devon comes up behind me. I grin so wide to see another ski team member and close friend come to my aid. She vows to help me get out there, so we can join those memorializing. I follow her instructions and get waist deep in the waves, using my board as a shield so I cannot be knocked down. Of course, I still get knocked down, but she catches me from traveling back to shore. After a few more tries, it is time for me to finally sit on the board and paddle out. The waves are higher than my board and I fall off again. Nothing will stop me from getting out there, though.
My wetsuit is keeping me very warm, as is the adrenaline rush I am having from fighting the ocean. I suddenly am very happy that the makeup I put on was just waterproof mascara. My tears flow in constant frustration that I have not made it to the circle because everyone is starting to chant and hold hands without me. Saltwater is flooding my nose and mouth, and stinging my eyes. For the first time, I do not have a towel poolside to wipe away the water from my face. I have to keep my eyes open and alert for the next wave. Devon keeps telling me to push back, so my surfboard can float tall enough to ride the waves instead of fight them. I fall off, and the only thing that is keeping me to my board is the leash. I grab the sides of it just as another wave sinks me under.
A lifeguard in a surfboard-like raft comes behind me and Devon, helping her teach me how to ride properly. They both steady the board as I finally am able to straddle it, and I learn I have been sitting in the wrong place the entire time. I did not realize how close to the front of the board I have to place myself, and suddenly it becomes so much easier to balance and push back. I finally paddle through my first wave. Of course, I am super slow, and they both are very ahead of me. They let me catch up, and as I keep paddling, the lifeguard helps pull the front of my board, so I can stay on pace with Devon.
Finally, I have made it far enough in the ocean. I can paddle through waves, and not get splashed in the face! My rose, although has lost many petals in the battle against the sea, still resembles a flower and is tucked in the back of my wetsuit. As we approach the circle, I change to happy tears. This is a triumph, as I had never swum this far out into the ocean before, and I had finally succeeded on my first paddling on a surfboard. I dare not think how difficult it would be for me to stand up on one of these, but I know I want to learn in the future. I am still shocked that I did not give up at all and that I pushed myself and succeeded.
The chanting was done in the circle, and everyone was now unlinking hands, as I find a place next to Devon. I look around. People are saying their own words to the fallen victims of the Isla Vista tragedy. I can see the love in their eyes and hear it in the words they speak. Some say silent prayers. People throw their flowers into the air and watch them fall into the sea. I feel honored to witness such a beautiful event. It is heartwarming to see the community connect with each other and memorialize the fallen together. I was not there. I did not know those who passed in 2014, but I feel the energy from everyone around me. I say a silent prayer into the water, wishing that all those lost from our community are now at peace.
Michael, our ski team president, makes an announcement. As everyone heads back to shore or talks with their friends, the ski team paddles right, so we can form our own circle to honor Hayden. I have finally gotten used to the paddling, and I flow right with the waves, still being very behind the group just like before, but I was making my own way this time. I find a spot in our ski team circle next to Johnny K. and Michael, knowing that if I fall off my board, they can steady me. I try sitting on my knees like everyone is, but I quickly lose balance and flip. I push myself back onto the board, and figure I will just have to keep lying down.
We begin to sing “Happy Birthday” to Hayden. He would have been 20. At this moment, there is such a real, true bond between us all. Hayden touched all of our lives. I am so happy to have known him, and I am so happy I can be here right now to honor his life. He loved surfing and I am sure he would have gotten a kick out of paddling with everyone here. Ever since Hayden’s attempt on his life, I have seen everyone grow and come together. Although we had spent many weekends in close quarters and witnessed each other’s embarrassing blacked out moments, today the ski team is truly the closest it has been all year. We have all hugged and cried over our loss, and though some were closer to him than others, everyone has been here for each other to mourn and honor him. Singing for him is as much of us coming together, as it is a private moment for all. The beauty of celebrating his memory by paddling out into the ocean on his birthday brings an insurmountable feeling of melancholy.
We all cheer, and it is time to throw our flowers for Hayden. I see Eleeza take her purple flower out of her hair and toss it into the air gracefully. I watch as others do so, as I take my pink rose out of my wetsuit. I am so thankful there are still petals left. I feel Hayden’s presence in the ocean, in our voices and deep in our hearts. I throw the rose, watch it through the air, and see it fall and sink into the water. I am overcome with such gladness that I had the strength to make it out here, so I can say goodbye to Hayden one last time. I would not be able to go to his funeral, so for me this is my farewell to him. I cry for his memory, and I say to the ocean what I need to say to Hayden.
LaBass, the current Vice President and future President of the team, opens a bottle of Jim Beam. This is for Hayden. He pours some into the ocean and begins to pass it around. People take pulls of Beam, honoring Hayden the best way the “Beam Team -- Dream Team” can.
Emily alerts our attention. She has a letter to read. A member of Hayden’s Writing 2 class had emailed the team. Four weeks ago, Hayden wrote about his love for skiing, for the UCSB Ski and Snowboard Team. This person had read all of his writings for the class and sent us the reflection paper he had turned in.
Emily competes against the sound of the waves to make Hayden’s message heard. He had skied since he was a little boy and shredding on California mountains was a dear part of his childhood. This year, he had skied on Mammoth Mountain for 32 days -- quite a feat for a full-time college student. Lastly, in the paper he told that his best decision at UCSB was joining the team. In his death, I cannot think of a better gift to us than that.
Hayden had left no note, and had us wondering why he decided to end his life. We searched for reasons, came up with possible conclusions, but still there was a hole unsatisfied. It originally was filled for me, with anger. I remember coming back to my dorm on Friday after seeing him for the last time in the hospital. I was crying angrily, shouting, “Why? Why did you do this, Hayden? Please, why?” And whenever I thought about that question, I began to ache, because even though there were ideas, he didn’t say, “Why.”
This reflection paper he wrote felt like a goodbye to us. It felt to me, like he was saying “thank you” to the team for giving him the great experience he had. If he was suffering, at least ski team took a bit of the pain away, if not with Jim Beam, with the adrenaline rush of Chair 22 at Mammoth and the nightly shenanigans following. We will never know his exact reasoning for wanting to leave this earth, but we can take comfort in the fact that he cherished our presence and that he enjoyed his time with us. Ski team was a better team with him in it, and I as told Anastasia on the night of his passing, “The ski team just went down 20 percent in attractiveness,” to which she nodded and agreed.
Through the reading, I struggle to keep afloat and turn over a few times. I climb on the board backwards, which I can not recover from. Johnny K. and a friend of Hayden’s keep me from falling again. For the duration of the reading, I hold onto other people’s boards so I will not drift away. Emily finishes the paper and the Beam bottle is almost finished. The last shot, they pour into the ocean for Hayden. It is time for us to all paddle back to shore.
It is much easier, even with my board backwards, to paddle and flow with the waves. I only paddle to keep me going straight, and let the waves guide me back to the sand. As I head back, I realize that this was the best experience of my life. Never have I truly felt so alive. This even beat out skydiving. I had conquered my fear of my head being underwater. I did not need a towel to wipe my face, I just let myself be. I open my eyes to the saltwater and the burn is not noticeable like it was at the beginning. I want to be in the ocean again. I want to get better on a board. I want to try to actually surf. Never have I felt so connected to an activity that challenged me this much.
Postmortem, Hayden has given me one of the best gifts I have ever received. He has shown me how much suicide can impact family, friends, teammates and even people that only met him a handful of times. Suicide shakes the community, and until seeing him in the hospital, I considered it a backup option if my pain in life ever became too great. He has shown me that there is love and people do care despite mental illness telling us that there is not. Hayden gave me a reason not to die, when I had trouble finding one. And through this paddle out, Hayden gave me the best gift of all -- he gave me a reason to live.
To live for ocean’s waves taking me out to a circle of friendship.
To live for the success, despite all the failures, as proven by my conquering my fear of being underwater and being able to actually paddle on the board. And to realize that I have to go with the flow of life, like the flow of the waves, to move forward.
To live for realizing that there are people along the way to help me, like Devon and the lifeguard. Adulthood is not as lonely as I thought it was one month ago, during my lapse into a deeper depression.
To live for the roses and the beautiful flowers that I get to see grow on this earth.
To live for feeling human. Feeling adrenaline rushes. Feeling how my body aches when it is sad. Feeling how tears stream down my face even when I try to hold them back. Feeling connected to people. Feeling loss. And feeling beautiful because I can not stop smiling at how amazing this entire experience was.
Thank you, Hayden. May you finally be at peace. I will see you up in the snowy mountains of Mammoth, and I will see you when I go back into the ocean. Take care and drink some Beam for us.
