Excerpts of Life

"I had a dream, no, it was a nightmare. I was dying. On my death bed. I'm young, only about sixteen years old, my time shouldn't have come so soon. Lying on the stiff mattress provided by the hospital, I looked up, that's all I did for the few hours I was there. They ran tests and examined me, they said I was dying at a break-neck pace, that my body couldn't fight off infection. There was nothing to do but look up, sometimes a fly would pass by over head and it's silhouette would be shown in contrast to the light above. The doctors whispered to my mom next to me. I could hear them. 'He won't make it through the night, he'll be lucky if he even has five, maybe six hours. If he has anyone to say goodbye to, he should get it done soon.' I remember his words so clearly, as if they were being spoken beside me right now. My mom stood up and left the room, I knew she was crying. I didn't see any tears but I could tell. Later in the night I could hear a large group of people hanging around the door of my room. They were all ushered in without my consent. They were my friends, my best friends, some close acquaintances, and last but not least, the love of my life. Everyone came around to my bedside, distress planted in their faces as they spoke to me for the last time. Reminiscing on the past, talking about the good times, it made me happy but I knew that I was going to let everyone down soon. I was going to die, no doubt about it but no one expected it to be so soon. After mostly everyone had time to say goodbye to me, they were escorted out of the room, most left in tears. There was one person who didn't say a word to me. My love, the one I had met only three years prior to today, walked up to me and grabbed my hand. Face flushed with anger, sadness, and despair. Flustered for words, looking for the most memorable to say. Nothing. She grabbed my hand and squeezed. It was a quirk of hers always squeezing my hand when she was scared or nervous. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked at me, slowly dying, there was nothing that could be done for me and she knew it. Lifting my hand in hers ever so gently to her face she laid my open hand on her cheek then bent down to kiss mine. As she was leaning in, so close, yet so far away, I felt my grasp on life and her hand diminish. She was getting closer and the time seemed to move slower, I wasn't sure if her lips would ever reach me, I couldn't judge the distance correctly, I was too scattered. About an inch away from me, my hand gave out, along with my spirit. My hand dropped from her embrace and I laid still in the bed, wishing that I had just a few more seconds left to live. I had no time left and I was called to the gates. My loves last kiss never laying lips on my living self."