Skip to main content

The River That Took Kaliyah: A Short Life, Forever Felt

 



Some absences echo louder than presence ever could.

The quiet banks of the River Thames have turned into a place of mourning. The body found earlier this month has been formally identified as 11-year-old Kaliyah Coa, who vanished on March 31 while playing near Barge House Causeway in east London.

A Day That Wasn’t Meant to End Like This

Did you know that the Barge House Causeway, a sloped concrete ramp used for boat launching, has long been described by locals as dangerously slick? On March 31, a sunny school inset day turned tragic when Kaliyah Coa, just 11, disappeared after playing near the area.

She had attended a birthday party that morning. Hours later, a call to emergency services at 1:23pm would launch an all-out, multi-agency search. Helicopters, coastguards, fire units, and police swept the waters. For days, there was hope.

Then, on April 13, a body was found. And over two weeks later, the worst was confirmed.

“Our hearts are broken and our lives will never be the same,” her family shared. “We were blessed to have Kaliyah, even if it was for such a short time.”

The Danger Beneath Still Water

The spot where Kaliyah vanished isn’t remote. It’s part of daily life for many East Londoners. But like so many overlooked spaces, it holds quiet risks. Moss. Slope. Distraction. A moment.

Authorities now believe she may have slipped, unnoticed, into the water. No struggle. Just sudden silence. And yet, it took 13 days for her to be found. The current carried her. The wait haunted those searching.

Detective Superintendent Scott Ware, who led the investigation, said:

“This tragic accident took away a little girl who was loved by many. Our officers will continue to support Kaliyah’s family as they process this heartbreak.”

He also urged the public to avoid fueling speculation online. Not every tragedy has a conspiracy. Some just have sorrow.

The Inquest, and the Grief That Doesn’t End

An inquest into Kaliyah’s death is scheduled for May 2. Her family, meanwhile, has asked for privacy — a space to grieve, to remember her laugh, her light.

They called her a blessing. And blessings don’t need long to leave their mark.

Where Silence Speaks

The River Thames moves on, as rivers do. But for those who loved Kaliyah, time has paused. There are no easy answers, no satisfying arcs. Only the reminder that a short life is still a full one. And that grief, however private, is always shared.

Emotions are human — and so is our news. ✍️ Written with respect, made to be felt.

further reading

The Room Where You Cry After Saving the World — When heroism fades, the ache that lingers is what makes us human
The Day the World Forgot You (And You Let It) — What remains when identity disappears into the noise
Why Every House Has That One Drawer No One Touches — A haunting look at what we hide and what we hold onto


Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Day the World Forgot You and You Remembered Yourself

Retirement doesn’t feel like rest. It feels like invisibility. But maybe that’s where we start to truly see. You notice it first in the grocery store. The way the cashier looks past you, not through you, as if you're part of the wallpaper of the day. Then it’s the doctor’s office, the emails that stop coming, the quiet birthdays. Retirement is supposed to be freedom. But no one tells you that freedom can feel a lot like being forgotten. The Unseen Years They don’t prepare you for this part. You spend decades being someone. You mattered, not just to your family, but to the rhythm of a system: deadlines, meetings, calendars, Friday plans. Then one day, the clock stops needing you. There’s a strange loneliness that follows, not because you’re alone, but because you’re no longer expected. On forums like r/retirement, the honesty is raw. “I have all the time in the world, and I don’t know what to do with it.” Another writes: “No one needs me anymore. I thought I’d enjoy this.” These ar...
Post a Comment
📘 Open the Whole Chapter

When the Old Were Young: Why Vintage Youth Photos Feel So Uncannily Modern

In an age of filters and megapixels, nothing unsettles more than realizing your grandparents were once effortlessly cool There is a strange, almost haunting moment when you stumble across a photo of your grandmother at nineteen and realize she looks like someone you might swipe past on Instagram. Not in some faded, antique way. In full color. Eyes sharp. Brows on point. Hair effortlessly tousled, as if the like button had already been invented. It knocks something loose in your head. For those of us in our early thirties, we grew up seeing the elderly through the lens of distance. Soft wrinkles, gray tones, muted voices. They arrived to us as grandparents, not protagonists. Their photos were usually black and white, dusty, grainy. More artifact than memory. But now, in 2025, the past has a resolution problem. And it has gotten too clear. The Confusing Clarity of Time It is not that we did not know they were young once. It is that their youth looks so now. The denim jackets. The hair ...
Post a Comment
📘 Open the Whole Chapter

Somewhere in You, a Man Kept Fixing a Bike That Never Worked

  A story doesn’t need to end to be unfinished. The chain kept slipping. The tires were never quite full. The brakes squealed like something asking to be left alone. Still, he tried. You remember the way he crouched beside it in the fading light, adjusting bolts that didn’t care and turning screws that never stayed. It wasn’t about the bike. Not really. Why do we keep fixing things that never take us anywhere? He never said what he wanted from you. Maybe he didn’t know. Maybe the only way he understood love was through repetition: the turning of a wrench, the straightening of a wheel, the oil on his fingers that always stained the door handle. You learned to watch without asking. You learned to listen without sound. Some people called it a father. Some never gave it a name. You never rode that bike far. But it carried something. Even now, your hands remember. When something breaks, you reach for tools first. Not questions. Not feelings. Just action. That was his language. And now, ...
Post a Comment
📘 Open the Whole Chapter