Falling, falling, falling. He was only 19 years old.

“I don’t want to go on this trip, Dad.”

At what point did terror grab his heart? When was it that the chilled fingers of fear crept up his spine and clutched his heart so hard, he couldn’t breathe?

“I’m never getting out. We’ll never make it back to the surface. I’ll never see the sun again….”

At what point did the darkness envelop the little submersible and the boy knew without a doubt that he would not live to see another day. Was he angry at his father? Did that cross his mind? Or did it all happen too fast – falling, falling, falling; floating, floating, floating.

Did they feel pain? They say the Titan Submersible with its six doomed passengers imploded first and then exploded. The pressure of the sea was so powerful, it simply crushed them in its grip. And then it exploded – perhaps sparks and light for only a moment before being extinguished forever by the blackness of the deep.

What did that feel like? What could it feel like? Or did they feel anything? I hope not. Were they already dead from the insane compression bearing down upon them or maybe a lack of oxygen made their brains slow down? Was there screaming or chaos within the bowels of the little ship? Was there time to panic? Or was life simply ripped from them, all at once, without warning?

The hapless Titan went down into the icy sea farther than a free diver can dive, farther than a massive submarine can venture. Falling, falling, falling. So far down that not even the tiniest rays of sunlight can penetrate the depth. It’s absolutely pitch black. Bleak darkness. Wretched darkness.

There’s outer space, but this is inner space. Inner space. Think of that – an obscure region recessed into the bowels of planet earth. It is far, far away, and so isolated that no one could ever save you if something went wrong. If there were a problem, you’re absolutely inaccessible, like floating in space. You are floating in inner space. You’ll never survive. No one can hear. No one can hear your cries. No one can hear you die. Do you still exist? Or do you just fade to black and you’re gone? Another soul claimed by Titanic.

Did they know? Did they know they were going to die? The captain must have known before the others – that foolhardy man who refused to conduct further safety tests. How did that feel? How long did it take before fear set into his heart? Before the others knew things were going terribly wrong? Did they know they were plunging to their death? The boy didn’t want to go. But his father insisted and bought tickets to a graveyard at the bottom of the sea. Father knows best.

“I don’t want to go, Dad. It’s too dangerous. I don’t really care about the Titanic. That’s your thing, not mine. I’ve seen the movie – been there, done that, bought the tee-shirt. Don’t make me go. Don’t make me go. Don’t make me go…. I’m scared.”

When you die young, does your short life flash before your eyes? Or perhaps all the things you could have been? The boy could’ve graduated from college at the top of his class. He could’ve had a brilliant career. He could’ve fallen in love and had children. How beautiful his life could have been. Did all those things flash before his eyes? All the things he would never do? The adult he would never be? He could’ve cured cancer or solved world hunger. Could’ve been the answer to so much in our world. But we lost him. Gone.

Did he think of his mother waiting patiently back home, fully expecting her husband and son to return on schedule? When did the realization hit her that her family was lost? That she would never see them again? How does it feel to lose so much in one fell swoop? Did she remember that her son didn’t want to go? Did she somehow wish she could grab the unforgiving hands of time and force them backwards with all her might? Turn them back. A do-over. Just once. Please. To take back the mere hours that separated her from the lost.

But time ticks forward mercilessly, just as the cruel sea eternally churns and flows. Tourism is frowned upon in the deep, where bitter tears mix with salt water, and it all becomes one. Lost at sea. Inner space. Washed away. They’re lost and far away now. Far away and gone. Floating, floating, floating. Falling, falling, falling. Falling down. Again.

Titanic.