Gift of a Lifetime

II

Over the course of the next few nights, my mother had slept in the sofa next to the window. I didn't sleep. I just simply laid there, staring at the ceiling, thinking. When I turned my head to look at her, all I could see was her still silhouette in the darkness -leaning back in the chair on her side, looking uncomfortable, a blanket rolled over her shoulders, hair pulled back in a stressed bun on the back of her head, the gentle rise and fall of her soft breathing. Though it was extremely dark, the streets lamps outside gave it a warm glow.

That moment, there, lying in that bed, was when it hit me. When I knew that I was going to die. And that I couldn't do anything about it. All I could do was just sit there, and let death take me away. I really wish I didn't have to go, I really did. I think my mother needed me. I was all she had. I changed her life when she had me. But now, we're split apart, and we'll never see each other again.

Lindsey was right next to me when it happened. (Just minutes earlier, we had actually gotten to the concept of my death, and, just incase, we told each other goodbye, forever.) When my vision receded, the heart monitor behind me flatlining, I heard when she got up, the chair behind her falling helplessly to the ground, and dashed to my side. She grabbed my arms when she got to me, trying to shake me from my trance; gasping, crying, before bursting out of the room and screaming at the top of her lungs, Someone help! I need a doctor! Residents stood and stared in surprise. The sounds that came from her mouth tore me apart -wailing, yelling, No!

I need you to leave the room, one of the nurses told her, we need some space. Lindsey left the room without question, I'd guessed, contemplating whether that was the last time she would ever see me.

I saw her waiting outside of my hospital room. She feel to her knees and cried into her hands. Her screams turned into weak, depressing weeps. Her dad was running up to her, asking what was wrong.

"What's happened, sweetheart?" He sounded already agitated.

Lindsey couldn't talk. Now she was crying so hard that there were slow, labored breaths coming from her. She began uncontrollably holding her breath.

Suddenly his eyes darkened. "Did something happen to Theo?"

Lindsey made eye contact with him and her face rested. All that was there was a frown, and one last tear rolled down her cheek.

"Daddy, he's gone," she sobbed, falling into his arms.

His eyes were starting to shine with tears. I had a good relationship with her father. I had a good relationship with everyone.

But seeing her at my funeral was the worst part. She couldn't stop crying, every minute in the church she wore red, puffy eyes and a pink nose. It was the worst thing I'd ever felt; because now I realize that I loved her. I loved her smile, one little crooked front tooth, the other one still growing in, I loved her style in clothing, the way she expressed herself. The way she talked about me, like she loved me too, or the way she talked to me. Now that I think about it, we could have had a life together. But now it's all gone to waste, and she'd most likely found someone else.

I still remember what it felt like to die. My eyes rolling back into a white expanse, muscles tensing painfully (Now that I think about it, I might've been having a seizure, which was what led me to die). The feeling of my soul slipping from my grasp; taking off into an abyss of nothingness, leaving me to question whether it's safe or not, or if I'll ever feel or see or touch it again -I'll never forget that. In fact, I'll never forget anything that's happened since then.