LAST THOUGHTS

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Dedicated to my Grandfather.

Submitted: January 14, 2014

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Submitted: January 14, 2014

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I've never known what it would be like to be in the grasp of death. How could I? It's not as if someone could teach me about it. And yet here I am so close to it. I could feel it covering me like a warm blanket, as I lay here in my hospital bed. My senses have been heightened. I could hear the slow monotonous drip from my I.V. bag. I could hear the chirping of the birds outside my window. This comforted me.

The smell of disinfectant invaded my nostrils. As did the scent of the nurses perfume that was outside of my room. Cherry Blossoms. I looked at the clock that was in my room. It was 1:42 PM. I am going to die in the afternoon. I would not want to have it any other way. How terrible it would be to die in the darkness of night or the loneliness of morning. This would be right for me. I want to scream, "HELP ME! HELP ME! I'M GOING TO FLAT LINE!" But the words wouldn't leave my lips. It was like some cruel trick. I couldn't even move. I could only lay there. Helpless.

What will be waiting for me? Some sort of God in heaven? Maybe another life for me? It's too bad I won't be able to tell anyone. Have I done right in the world? Have I helped others? I'm sure I have.

I can feel my heart racing. Thump, thump-thump, thump, thump-thump. As if it were my clock counting down my last moments. I could feel the dripping of sweat down my face. I could even taste the air. It was bittersweet, for I knew I would not taste it again.

And what of my family. Can I now leave them so suddenly? How selfish of me. I don't even know if I loved them enough. Or if they loved me. But I know they did. I would always feel it when they walked through my door. I will love them always. There may have been some things that I wish I could've said, but I think I did my best.

As I lay here in my bed describing everything that I can feel, hear, smell, and taste, you might be wondering what I can see. I can see my family, standing over me, crying. I can see my daughter, softly wiping the tears from my grandson's face and whispering her comforts. I can also see them all healing. Me, a distant memory. But I know that I am always in their thoughts. But most of all, I can see the sun. Bright in the blue canvas that is the sky. It grows brighter until I am submerged in a sea of light. Goodbye.

 

 

 


© Copyright 2018 Harrison Eaton. All rights reserved.

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