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"I'm very sorry, but, the surgery, something went wrong and your father didn't make it." I remember those words. I used to have nightmares about them.
Nine years ago my father was in a car crash. He was hit by a semi truck going to fast and the truck pinned his small pickup truck up against a tree. No one else was on the road that night so no one knew what had happened until it was too late for him - my father. He had broken both of his legs, his right arm, broke three ribs, sprained his ankle, and had massive damage to his head. They said that if he had survived, he would have been in a great amount of pain for the rest of his life.
The driver died on the scene, they told me.
I have never feared death. Not even now, as I wait for it to take me. I don't think death is bad. I think death is like an adventure. Death opens up a whole new world for you. Heaven, Purgatory, or Heck.
You don't know where you're going; you just hope and pray that it's someplace good.
I stare out my window in awe. I have never noticed how beautiful everything is here on Earth. The fressia and roses they have in the small garden next to the parking-lot are breath taking. I don't know why they are now. I guess, when you realize that it may be the last time you see something it just looks so much more brilliant. The roses are at their prime now. The perfect time of the year. I am so lucky to get to die looking at them. White roses have always been my favorite.
"By, gosh, their beautiful", I said quietly to myself.
I had shared the room with an older woman. But she had died yesterday. She had lung cancer. I will never forget the faces of the family she had when the doctor told them their mother and grandmother had died. I was lucky that I probably wouldn't have enough time left to have nightmares about it.
I have many nightmares. I have not had one about when I die yet though.
I am dieing from a tumor in my head. It's like a golf ball thing. The medicine they give me makes my hair fall out. I was so self-conscious before but now it seems so useless.
I raise my hand to my head and rub the bandanna covering my scalp. I am feeling angry suddenly. I yank the bandanna off and through it across the room.
I shouldn't be angry, I should be sad. I tried to be sad, like a normal person would be, but I couldn't feel it.
I have no family to be sad about. My father was dead, my mother left my father when I was nine and she never did come back. I have no cousins or grandparents or aunts or uncles. I used to have a cousin but she ran away from home after her mom (my aunt) died and no one knew who her dad was. I have no family. I only have one friend and I don[t get to see her much. She moved a couple years back, but she still came to see me every birthday and New Year day and during the summer when she didn't have school. She came every chance she got.
I've been an orphan since I was seven years old. I had been adopted once but after two months the wife (I don’t remember their names) got pregnant and they decided that they wanted a child of their own. I guess I can’t blame them.
I hope their happy, I thought.
I was still looking out my window and my eyes were caught by a family walking into the hospital. I saw a mom and a dad and two little girls, twins by the looks of it. They were smiling and laughing. They all held hands and swung their arms as they walked quickly through the sliding doors. Then they were gone and I could not see them anymore.
I though about what I had seen. They all seemed so happy. Why my family couldn’t have been that way? Why my family couldn’t have been happy and together? It didn’t seem fair at the time. After you look at it though, who cared? I would be dead soon. The only person who would ever come to my funeral (if she could) would be my best friend. But even she isn't here. She is in California, visiting her Grandmother.
No one would come to my funeral. No one would leave flowers by my gravestone.
No one would say a prayer for me. No one would care. I will just be another face that you see sometimes in the wind, crying.
I tried to remember the girl I used to be friend with at the orphanage but I couldn’t. I knew that she had sandy blond hair and deep dimples and brown eyes but everything else was a blur. Like my slat had bee wiped clean. The girl from my memories used to be my only friend. She was adopted when I turned eight though.
Then I realized that I didn’t have many friends. Everyone avoided me at the orphanage. I was the oldest there. Everyone else was at least two years younger or more.
I heard a frantic, long beep coming from the room next to mine. I recognized the sound from when the older woman I used to share the room with had died. Her heart had stopped beating and the monitor made the same sound as the one that was ringing in my ears.
I looked out my open door as I watched nurses and doctors rush into the room. I could hear the nurses and doctors talking frantically; trying to save the persons life.
I sank down in my bed. I didn’t want to have to listen to this – I knew the outcome, I knew the ending, I knew the stranger in the room next to me was dead. All I had to do was waiting for the terrible sound of the nurses and doctors working over the corpse. It was maddening.
I laid there waiting to hear the sighs and possibly a sob from one of the nurses or doctors, but nothing happened. They kept working on the person next door and they seemed to becoming more and more anxious, like they were getting close to something they equally wanted.
I was finally interested. I sat up in my uncomfortable hospital bed and stared out my open door. I was waiting to see the doctors and nurses walk away out of the room but no one left. I was becoming anxious now. I strained to listen harder and finally heard a beeping noise. Not the same as before though. This one had a rhythm to it. I recognized the sound almost immediately.
The monitor that was keeping track of the person’s heart beats had found them. It was monitoring the heartbeats. I sat there slumped over, my mouth hanging open like a fool, in awe.
The persons alive! How? How?!
I could feel sweat forming on the back of my neck and my eyes squeezing shut, but I didn’t remember closing them. I felt angry. I felt surprised. I felt completely out of control.
How did they save the person? I thought he was dead. His heart had stopped beating hadn’t it? Did they revive him or am I just crazy? Maybe I’m just hearing thing
I had thought these things in less then a second. My head was swirling around inside trying to process what had just happened.
I opened my eyes quickly. I looked around the room until my gaze found the door. I sat there then as before and stared out my open door. I could see nurses talking and walking, I could see two doctors leaving the room they were just in - trying to save some ones life. I felt my mouth open wide as I saw this. The person did live. The person would see tomorrow probably. Right? Then for the first time in my life, I was fearful of death. But, I wasn’t afraid for my own death, just others. Other people had families who would cry, mourn, and sob. Other people had friends who would cry, mourn, and sob. Other people had homes that would feel hollow. Other people had children. Other people had parents. Other people had these things but I didn’t. I would feel sorry for them that sounded like the compassionate thing to do.
Other people, I would give anything to be one of them