I can’t help but imagine what that would be like—to be all alone on this island with eternity taunting me with loneliness. To say goodbye to the last human you will ever see—there is no crueler hand of fate.

A billion stars above us coat the sky white. It would have been beautiful back home, but not here. Here it is the ever present reminder that we are all alone and insignificant.

Every few days the sea delivers us gifts, and I am convinced that there is something of the divine nature in this process. Often I have prayed for a jacket, a bucket, or a handsaw, but instead I find one single flip-flop. Many times it has left my heart bitter, but then I find some useful purpose for my found treasure. Maybe the sea doesn’t give me what I want, but what I need.

This island is a hard place to survive and I fear that it has made everything resistant to the cruel hand of death.

But every tomorrow has led to today— to us being alone, hungry, and cold on an unknown island somewhere in the South Pacific.