A Man And A Child Died In An Accident. I Survived.
The guilt of being alive today while others are not.
Courtesy of Author, jat306, patrickheagney | Canva The first time I almost died, I was trying to save my then-closest friend from drowning in a pool. We were a group of high school friends at a pool resort.
We hit the deepest pool even when some of us couldn’t swim. The pool had a long slide, which the girls wanted to try. So I waited a few feet from the slide’s mouth to help swim the girls to safety.
The first slid down, screaming in glee, and I caught her and swam her to the pool’s edge. Then another did. Everything worked out smoothly, and I was just starting to catch my breath and stretch my muscles when the third one, my close friend, hit the slide without warning.
I didn’t have the time to signal her to let me get my bearings first. Before I knew it, both of us were struggling to stay above water.
My friend is slim and, at five feet and two inches, petite. But my arms were strained from swimming and carrying the other girls without rest. My friend and I sunk into that pool. In her panic, she gripped my arms tightly, and it became even harder to swim.
Under the water, the music slowed. It sounded exactly like those sound effects you hear in the movies, where the character sees the bubbles floating to the surface, and the music is muffled and slowed.
“Is this what it’s like to almost die?” my brain pondered.
Even then, I still had some inner confidence that we wouldn’t die. The rest of our friends were around the pool. I knew they would help. And even if some of them couldn’t swim, they could call on the lifeguards.
But I’d hate to be resuscitated in full view of the other resort visitors. That would have been embarrassing.
At that moment, my mind focused with distinct clarity: What do I have to do now? I decided to get some air. I held on to my friend to keep her from floating too far while unlatching her panicked hands so I could swim up. My head broke through the water, I gasped, gulped as much oxygen as I could, and then I was back under.
A bit of strength returned to my arms, and I lifted my friend. She choked on the air, but she was breathing. We dashed to the pool’s edge, and our friends helped us. They were worried at first, but my friend and I both recovered with no serious problems.
Photo: Author walking on the beach at sunset with some friends in the background/ John Pucay
Life, I believe, has two teaching methods: The easy way, and the hard way.
My friend never said it, and maybe she wasn’t aware, but I got the feeling that after that incident, an inner form of trust she had for me began to diminish. I almost let her (and myself) die.
Inwardly, my youthful sense of invulnerability started to crack.
I had always been a physically active person. Growing up in the mountains in the company of rough, mountain boys, I developed a sort of arrogance in my physical abilities. That’s probably why the biggest takeaway I had from that experience was to be more careful next time.
I didn’t think about the idea of a “second life” then.
It, sadly, took another near-death experience to truly shake me to my core and teach me my lesson.
Life, I believe, has two teaching methods: The easy way, and the hard way. The former happens when we learn our lessons from other people’s stories while the latter occurs through experience.
I think many times (not always), life tries to teach us the easy way. Unfortunately, the human soul is a stubborn one. We have many resources; history, books, films, etc. But some lessons, we never quite learn until experience comes around. Even then, experience may need to smack us on the head several times before the soul finally learns.
I was nineteen, maybe twenty, when the thought of not wasting my life forcefully etched itself in my soul.
My biggest preoccupation at the time was not love, road trips, or even drugs and loud music — but money. As a jeepney driver’s eldest son, I couldn’t afford to go out and be carefree like my peers did. (The most common public transportation in the Philippines is the jeepney. It functions like a minibus, but with smaller capacities and less comfortable seats. Jeepney drivers are among the lowest earners in the country.)
So I was more obsessed with having the means to afford my youth. The adult world is preoccupied with money, and it’s understandable why. As a kid, I couldn’t eat what I wanted, or buy the toys that I liked because I couldn’t afford them.
The same thing happens with adults — only the items and the price tags change.
For me, becoming a legal adult meant applying for adult jobs and getting paid an adult paycheck. It was better than the below-minimum-wage rate that small establishments paid when I was an underage worker.
I worked at a call center for a little over a year, and it was one of the most soul-sucking experiences I ever had. I was hospitalized due to fatigue since I was working nights, taking classes in the mornings, and working on class assignments in the afternoons.
My government scholarship required a full class load every semester, and my father’s sudden stroke kept me from resigning. In the end, I failed most of my classes due to work. The government canceled my scholarship because of my failed classes.
I eventually quit for the reasons above.
But the sea made sure I would never take another soul-sucking job.
When it started, I thought my friend, who had asked me to save her, was just kidding. We were swimming at a local beach when she began beckoning for help. I swam closer, and I realized there was real panic in her eyes. I discovered, to my surprise, that there was suddenly no sand floor to step on.
It was the same group of high school friends, and we’ve made it into a tradition to have beach or pool trips during summer break, despite the last pool incident. And since most of our friends couldn’t swim, we decided to stay at a spot near the shore where the water was waist-deep.
I’m still not sure how it happened. Maybe it was a riptide that crept up without our knowledge. But one moment, the water was waist deep. Then suddenly, we were all struggling to stay above water, our feet touching no sand, as we fought to keep our mouths away from the crashing waves. The sea, which used to be calm, suddenly sprang to life like a quiet spider that found its prey.
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In the face of imminent death, I believe one of the strongest human instincts is to bargain.
Amidst the crashing of waves and the panicked screams of my friends, three thoughts entered my mind.
“Keep swimming but conserve your strength; keep finding ways to survive.”
“Please, God and the Universe, make us all go home. Complete.”
and, finally, “If I live through this day, I swear I will not waste this chance of life.”
We survived that day. We eventually swam to a more stable part of the sea, and we walked back safely to shore. Complete. Shaken, but all well and alive.
Later in the afternoon, we heard reports that a man and a child had drowned in the same area. Thousands of people die every day, and thousands are also born. But that statistic only became real and human to me after that experience.
That day, while a man and child had died — I had lived.
I don’t know the circumstances of the two unfortunate people who drowned. I don’t know what their purposes were in life or what dreams and aspirations and problems and happiness they had. But they won’t be continuing their lives anymore.
Meanwhile, for me and my friends, and the rest of the world, life, miraculously, goes on.
Tomorrow’s sun is available for us. We could make plans. We could change the world. We could live our lives. Our potential is endless because we’re alive.
We’re alive, while others have died.
So whenever I get too preoccupied with stability, bills, work, appearances, money, success, and all other things that adults get preoccupied with, I always think:
“This is my second or third life. And I promised not to waste this chance.”
That mindset usually puts things into perspective. It reminds me to only do things that truly matter. To be thankful for all the things I have, instead of overly envying and becoming skeptical of others who are “doing better” than me.
And to live a life free from regret.
John Pucay is an author from Baguio City, Philippines. His novel on 2020s dating and sex, Karinderya Love Songs, received positive reviews on BookTok and Booksta. He blogs about relationships, polyamory, running, and life.