Live Life To Die

“We back here again!” The two sliding doors flew open. The lights were bright. People everywhere. I think to myself, “It must be my baby cousin with the bad case of the runs.” I call him Poo Poo Kazoo. Sounds coming from everywhere. Coughs, sneezes, ambulances, and babies crying. The smell was awful; it smelled like vomit, cafeteria food, and sick people. I stayed close to my aunt and my brother stayed close to me. We were walking like we were in a scary movie about to get murdered. My aunt asked, “Where is room 436?” to a man that looks like cookie monster. He had on a bright blue uniform on with a badge that said “Front Desk Security.” The guy said “4th floor then a left.” We got on the elevator and went up, which seemed like forever. Finally the fourth floor. We went down this long hallway, the light got dimmer and dimmer. Then there was the room, room 436, the numbers made me nauseous and nervous. I was scared. There were old men with their hairy, wrinkly butts dangling out the back of dotted pajamas that looked like sheets. The door too room 436 was cracked. We walked into the dark room with a television playing, and the news was on at a very low volume. Then I slid back the blank white curtains and I couldn’t believe who it was.


I was eleven years old, being scared and nervous was occasional, but this point in time tiny red ants were running every where in my tummy more than usual. Sometimes strange things happen and time freezes. I either want to run away and dismiss it or face it. Being eleven I couldn’t face the issue that punched me right in my red ant filled tummy and quiet frankly I didn’t understand. Sickness is part of life, but a cold was the worst I ever got sick. I coughed, I sneezed, and my throat hurts. But never was I put in a hospital bed.

When I slid the curtains back and seen my Father, all the red ants fell out my butt. The horror in my eyes, as they burned before the lava fell from them, I was just so distraught. My mother sitting there, with a pale sick look on her face. She didn’t even say “Hi babies”, like everyday when we come from school. I studied my father like I had a test the next morning on a big black man in a bed. He had snakes shooting venom in his arms. Something breathing for him, and one half of his body moving and the other half practically dead. As I stood back for a while, I felt like a sponge; I was absorbing all that just happened. But I got the courage to walk, to the man I didn’t even notice. I slowly grabbed his hand; my hand was shaking it has never done that before. His hand was rough and fragile, his eyes popped open, and I whispered, “Dad why did you have a stroke?”

Being 15 now, I understand seeing someone you love at a young age on the edge of life or death is difficult. So many questions that need to be asked but at that point in time, you cant even regurgitate the questions you would like to ask. This day I grew up and moments like this in life you don’t want to take it for granted. I looked at life in a whole different view, because someone can be gone today or tomorrow and not saying I love you can hold on to you forever. Being 11 I got a clearer understand of death and what causes death, but honestly we are born to die.

 A gentle tear trickled down my face as I said “I would do anything you ask, are you in here because I spilled all of your cologne?” He grabbed my hand tight, tight enough to lose circulation and chuckled.

He kissed me and said, “I love you young lady, and no matter what happens life changes.”

“I love you too dad”, and I let go of the sand paper hand and left room 436.


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