I'd always thought my father's skills as a diver were exaggerated. Not until his funeral did I realize he'd been telling the truth the whole time.

My father had grown up in a small town in Finland, on the shores of Lake Saimaa. He'd spent a great deal of his childhood in the water, both fishing and swimming. When he was in his mid-twenties, he joined the Finnish Navy. He spent twenty years serving overseas, and when he rotated back to Finland he joined the local police department's diving team. He'd tell me stories about how sometimes, when people would slip beneath the surface and fail to come up, they'd find no trace of a body in the water. When that would happen, the diver was to swim to the bottom and search around by hand. He'd always say he was able to reach the bottom whenever he'd have to search it for a body. I'd joined the U.S. Navy when I was eighteen, and when I got out I joined the local police department where I was living. I always felt like my Dad was exaggerating, like he hadn't quite been telling the truth, but after his funeral I realized that this wasn't true.<br><br>It was a beautiful Finnish summer, the sun shone brightly overhead. The water of Lake Saimaa was clear, and the heat of the summer had warmed it enough that it was comfortable to be in. My Dad had been a great man, and his funeral drew a huge crowd. They all sat on the beach while his fishing boat was lowered into the water. A body burner had been installed in the center of the boat, and we'd burned his remains and placed them in a small urn. The urn was then placed in a small watertight bag that was tied to a rock. The bag and weight were thrown over the side of the boat and sank below the surface. My father had requested when he died that he wanted this done. He said it was the best way he could think of to be laid to rest.<br><br>I'd grown up in the United States, and had never been in the water of Lake Saimaa. Still, when my uncle approached me and asked if I wanted to help him burn my father's remains at sea I agreed. We sailed far out onto the lake with a handful of other family members. My uncle and I rolled up our sleeves and lit the burner. My mother came up to the side of the boat, let in a deep breath, and then threw the bag and weight over the side and into the water. The burner crackled as it began to burn my father's remains, and we turned back towards the shore. I sat with my feet hanging over the side of the boat, resting my feet in the water.<br><br>The lake was even more beautiful from out on the water. Sun shone on the pines that lined the shore. The water moved ever so slowly from the ripples of boats that dotted the lake. My mother wept quietly. My uncle had the expression on his face that he'd had since the funeral, that of deep sadness. My cousins and aunts and uncles all somberly watched the water pass by. The burner crackled along, burning the remains of the greatest man I'd ever known. The day was beautiful, the water was clear, and I couldn't help but feel a bit of awe at how pretty it all was. I'd never been much of a swimmer, but as I sat there I thought I might join my uncle's diving crew when I returned to Finland.<br><br>We reached the shore and disembarked. I walked up to the house where my mother was staying and, once inside, I went straight to the freezer. I pulled out a bottle of Finnish vodka and poured myself a drink. All of my family was there and, at first, everyone wanted me to be the center of attention. After my second drink everyone could see I had nothing to say, and began to sort themselves out as to who was going to drive, and who would drink. All in all, it was an altogether very European funeral. I alternated between drinking and wandering around, making sure everyone had enough to drink and that my mom didn't need anything. It was probably around eight when I decided I'd had enough and wanted to go down to the shore.<br><br>I'd brought a bottle with me, and sat on the beach drinking it. I lost track of time, I'd been staring at the lake for what felt like hours when a thought crossed my mind. I didn't stop to think about it, I simply stood up and went down to the water. I pulled off my shirt and shoes, then walked into the water. It was about waist high when I stopped. I crouched down and let the water come up to my shoulders. I thought about my father, and then I was gone.<br><br>I didn't know how long I'd been swimming, but I'd never felt so at ease in the water. Finland had been chilly, but the water hadn't felt too cold. I could have been there for minutes, or hours. My chest hurt and my breathing was shallow, but I hadn't begun to tire. Finally, I reached the bottom of the lake. There was nothing there but a few smooth rocks. I searched my memory, trying to remember where my father had said he'd sunk the boat all those years ago. I'd been a young boy, and my memory was hazy, but I remembered my father telling me about it. I'd asked where he'd sunk the car, and he'd told me it was fifty-or-so feet down, about a kilometer from the docks. I knew the docks weren't far from where I was. I set off in the direction I thought the docks were in, searching the bottom of the lake by hand for any sign of the wreck.<br><br>As I reached the rocks closest to the docks, I could feel my air running out. My head was beginning to hurt, and my mouth watered as I thought about the air I'd left behind. I searched in every nook and cranny, but I couldn't find any sign of the car. I was about to give up, when I felt something solid sticking out from one of the rocks. I pulled on it, and it didn't budge. I thought of my father, of the stories he'd told me of searching for bodies. I didn't know if this was what he'd been talking about, but I felt a great sense of pride as I pulled harder on the solid object. I missed the water spout, and shot towards the surface as fast as I could, the solid object clutched in my hand.