She set sail for New York on April 10th carrying 2,200 passengers—including me. On April 14th, Captain Edward James Smith received seven ice warnings. That night, I stood on the deck overlooking the sea, so cool and calm.
    At 11:40pm, the world altered. The unsinkable ship collided with an iceberg. Sinking the ship slowly, water filled the boats sixteen watertight compartments. Passengers like my father were taken by the frigid Atlantic waves. The crew carried passengers into lifeboats only a quarter full. My cousin Samantha stood huddled with her brother James awaiting to board. That was my faint final memory of Samantha and James. Captain Smith stayed on board by his own will. “We live together, we die together,” he assured. That’s when      Captain went back to his cabin to perish.
    What I would do to know this man who had control of our future and took away so much from me. I can’t help but repeat to myself, it was preventable. The man who was responsible for 1,503 deaths should hear the wrecked stories his choices made.