Ava Martignetti

The Swell  

Ava Martignetti

I am powerless to my own mind at times, as it wanders back and forth through present and past searching for enlightenment. I always seem to feel secure in the headspace of my younger self on the beaches of a small seascape community in North Falmouth, Massachusetts, referred to by my family as the “armpit of Cape Cod,” where blissful summers were once spent with my late grandparents. I can recall the precise feeling of weightlessness in the arms of my nana at low tide, cradling me near the shore as the other adults swam past the limits of the jetty. She had never learned to swim, but could always be found beaming with joy in the company of her three granddaughters. We watched as the soft waves of the bay blanketed the sands with a pure fondness akin to what we had shown each other in those moments. Though the waves seemed to rest gently upon the shore, I would wish that the foam and retracting currents would not thieve the beautiful shells I sought to collect, lost to the mouth of the bay. I have carried this identical feeling of frustration with me towards each loss that I have faced. 

Perhaps my nana had known that her arms could not bear the weight of her grandchildren much longer, as she was battered by lung cancer for the first few years of my life. I couldn’t grasp disease and decay at the age of three but I can recall the woman I had come to love most becoming fragile as her heartwarmingly vibrant spirit was gradually extinguished; a woman who would spend hours reading my favorite books aloud and fueling my obsession with The Little Mermaid and sitting through all seventy-eight Lazytown episodes, without a single regret. A short time in her company has impacted my life to this day. I remember visiting her and wanting nothing more than to wrap my arms around her while she slept on burdensome exhaustion, but being told to refrain in caution of her fragility. I’d attempt to hold her limp hand in both of my palms and bring it close to my chest, moving with the small turbulence of her labored breathing. When I couldn’t hold her any longer I was given her red scarf that has since lost its ambrosial scent after the years that I have spent sleeping with it. She remains scarcely within my rusted heart locket, her picture superglued tightly but discolored from the amount of times I have been  comforted by her face.

I saw how my grandmother’s absence darkened our once illuminating family gatherings, her warm laughter echoing numbingly. Throughout this age, similar to other children, I remember feeling petrified of the dark and the looming evil I believed I was observing. Without even realizing, I found familiarity and comfort in darkness and the unknown. I have found that we are taught more about life in grief than in wealth and contentment. To fill the void of my losses, would be to ignore all that still remains. Through stories told to children detailing the traits of their ancestors that live on vicariously within us, we let their warmth linger on. What we deem as a loss, though excruciating, is never truly missing.

While we’re all bound to lose the tangible things we love most in life, we are products of these people, passions, and experiences, their remnants leaving imprints upon our souls. We originate as parched sponges, gradually absorbing all that can fulfill us. In light of this, I have attempted to change the manner in which I view myself, those around me, and those I have yet to meet. Constructing myself with fragments of those before me, a mosaic melding my artistic dedications and passion for helping others. Leaving only footprints in my absence, lost to the currents that tug at those I leave behind.

Author's Note: I find in moments of loss and desperation it is natural to well up with a newfound emptiness, but in that emptiness we lose sight of who we've become, gifted by the time we were fortunate enough to share with those we hold dear. Writing a personal narrative is truthfully very daunting, especially for someone as painfully indecisive as I am, although it brought me great joy to be able to reflect on the ways that every person I have come across in my life has had a contribution to who I am today and who I hope to become in the future.