I Don't Ever Want to Feel like I Did That Day
Essay by Spries • June 17, 2013 • Essay • 604 Words (3 Pages) • 1,570 Views
I don't ever want to feel like I did that day
Sitting there next to a bed, in a small room with two windows. One looks outside to a thirteen-story drop, at the bottom is a grey dull winters day. The other window looks into a hallway with people in white lab coats pretending to look busy. Everything in the room was white; it brought a sort of peace over the whole situation. She lies there with no expression on her face; she might as well be dead. The heart monitor thinks otherwise, a little beep comes from the machine every second or so. Every noise is elevated. From the footsteps in the hallway, which is muffled by the closed door, the beeping of the machine and the distant traffic noises are driving my mind away from what is important. Not twelve hours earlier we were having a great time at my mothers favorite restaurant celebrating the fact that she had just sold her company. My dad was there glowing with pride that my mother had done this by herself. The celebration was over and we decided to head home. My dad had a few so my mother drove, luckily she doesn't drink but the driver who side swiped us did.
Sitting in that room realizing that you have full control over someone's life. My mother only had my farther and myself. Sitting there with a few bruises, a lost father and a mother who might as well be where my dad is. For this all to happen to a child of sixteen years is not easy. I believe in heaven, so do my parents. The man in the funny white coat had given me the choice to pull or not to pull the cord of my own mother's life. I don't want to say goodbye so early but I know my father is there with the Lord waiting to be reunited with the love of his life.
I have always wondered where you go after you die. What do you even do? I do not want to sit on a cloud the whole day playing a mini harp. I know this is not a time to think about myself, but what happens to me? I'm an orphan if I pull that cord. If I don't I have a mother who cant even open her eyes. At least I wont be an orphan, right? Now isn't a time to be selfish, now is a time to be the man my parents what me to be, a man who puts others before himself. I'm not a man... I am just a stupid teenager expected to make decisions that only a man should have to make. Maybe I am a man? Maybe a man isn't judged by age but more by character. Maybe the people in white coats think I'm a man? Just thinking about all this my eyes water up and a tear rolls down my cheek and onto the cold floor.
I can hardly stand but eventually I get to my feet. I walk out the door into the hallway and up to the man in the white coat who gave me the choice to take someone's life. I tell him to do it. The words are hard to pronounce over my attempt to hold back the tears. He asks if I want to be there. I look at the floor and shake my head; I turned around and looked
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