My vision slowly returned and I realized I was crying for the pain was gigantic.
I found myself on the textured rubber floor of some type of boat and I heard someone asking me if I was okay repeatedly.

I found that my throat hurt immensely.  I couldn't speak and I tried to nod yes, that I was "okay" but in the end, the best I could do was hold a "thumbs up".
The looks of my rescuers as they stared at me was total confusion.
I think I was crying and coughing and puking.  My heart hurt like I had never felt before.
Partly I'm sure from my ordeal but largely due to my realization that I was no longer in the presence of my grandpa.
I was no longer in that place of light and that seemed to cause my heart to cramp with terrible longing.

I was wrapped in a blanket and the boat sped to what must've been the nearby shore.
I honestly don't remember much of what happened during this period.
I remember sitting in an ambulance because it hurt too much to lie prone.
I remember my attendants asking me how I felt and checking my blood pressure along with numerous other "tests".  The whole "shine a light in your eyes" test seemed to really bother me and I think I snort laughed for the light was nothing like the comfortable light I had just left.

And I remember seeing my wife standing in the background, staring at me because they would not let her near until they had finished with me.
When I was allowed to be hugged by her, I cried until there were no tears left in me.
I knew that she had cried until she ran dry as well.

When my recovery had made me able to understand things again, I was told that I had been under water for an estimated fifteen minutes.
I was told they had found me floating face down, about a hundred yards from the pier.

When I think about this day in my life, I often get goosebumps and chills down my spine.
It does not frighten me nor does it comfort me much, it simply "is" or was, much like a pimple on the face that can only be ignored.
I have the picture of my family and I jumping from that pier but it is not hanging on my wall.  I keep it in a box in my basement and will only occasionally look at it.

At times, I tell myself that it was all a dream.  That my brain tricked me or "entertained" me while I was absent.
I have never really spoken about it with anyone, not even my wife.
But the sheer amount of memories I witnessed makes me think otherwise.
I accept that it was the longest fifteen minutes of my life and the most marvelous movie I have ever seen.