To some, death is an impending doom that waits for them when their time on earth is complete, while to others it is only the end of one life and the beginning of another. However, for me it has always been an escape from the viciousness of the world I live in. The pain, fear, and sadness—all of it could be ended with a simple infliction of cruelty to my body. Yet, every time I attempted to end it all, my sister would call for me from the other room and I would realize how unfair it would be to leave her alone at such an early age. Sadly, my mother's selflessness was not as great and she herself overdosed only a year after my sister was born. My father was not affected in the least by her death; then again, he was never a person who expressed his emotions outwardly. Well, not unless it was anger.
Those days are long gone now though. Now I am just a corpse occupying Room 77 of Ally Homes, an assisted living residence for those who are breathing their last breaths. I have lived here for close to four years now. Chemo started the year beforehand and my doctor recommended I come here shortly thereafter. That is when I began to think about the idea of death a bit closer. Considering how dysfunctional my childhood and early adulthood were, religion was never a part of my life. Even when I got my life under control, I always found myself too busy to discover and practice a religion of any sort. However, over the past four years I have found myself having immense amounts of time to heal from my past and become more content with my future.
Along with a referral to Ally House, my doctor also referred me to a psychiatrist. I remember our first few sessions being a waste of my time. This girl who was clearly two times younger than me was trying to learn about the traumas of my past. Nevertheless, as the weeks passed by, I found myself opening up to her and sharing deep secrets I had not talked about in years. Our discussions brought me back to a time in my life when I had been buried underground years before. As we talked though, I began to heal and feel less guilty about certain events that had occurred over the scope of my life—especially the ones in my childhood.
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The Parts You Fix
RomansaALLIE He was titanium but also my kryptonite--until he wasn't. I'll never forget how he ruthlessly shot my father without even batting an eye. After fixing one part of me, he turned and broke another. Now he's my new boss and I plan to break his he...
