It\u2019s been 11months of being in a coma. I could breathe on my own but was unsure of how much longer I wanted to. I even had the luxury to hear faint noises and conversations. I gave myself two options\u2014I guess you could consider this an intervention\u2014but a permanent one. The first was to go back to my life on earth. The second option seemed to be the more difficult, to move on, meaning I would have to depart with what I once knew.<\/p>\n
I considered what I would be missing: telling my mom I loved her one last time, watching my brothers grow into men, sharing words of wisdom with my sister, watching the beautiful seasons change from winter to spring, and filling coffee-stained pages with wonder. I would be putting an end to it all. I know nothing lasts forever, so why hold onto things that are beyond my control?<\/p>\n
I couldn\u2019t help but think that I\u2019ve overstayed my visit. After all, I am in a coma, for a purpose. I find it hard to believe that things happen without reason. There\u2019s a point to this life, and I\u2019m not complaining about mine. As much as I love existing and being granted the gift of life on earth, I\u2019ve grown weary of it. I have fought for a while, and time stops for no one. I need todo what\u2019s right, not what\u2019s easy. In my case, it would be to surrender. Sometimes surrendering is all you can do, especially when you don\u2019t know-how.<\/p>\n
Though my family, writing my heart out, and the creation of nature bring me great joy. There is something else that I would prefer, a utopian world. A life without suffering, tears, fears, anxieties, burdens, responsibility, expectations, shame, misery, a toxic society, and feelings of homesickness. Rather I long for someplace comfort, joy, and acceptance reside.<\/p>\n
There is so much negative connotation to death, yet birth is so precious. There must be an end for there to be a beginning. With one comes the other. \u201cIn death comes peace but the pain is the cost of living, it\u2019s like love, it\u2019s how we know we\u2019re alive.\u201d<\/p>\n
I heard \u201cThis life will be good and beautiful but not without heartbreak\u201d some time ago, and it\u2019s stuck with me since then.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ve realized that…<\/p>\n
To come to an end of a quest is to return to the starting point. What must be discovered was what was already there, what just was. The end of one thing is the beginning of something greater.<\/p>\n
That is my decision.<\/p>\n
It was impossible to give my goodbyes, considering my condition, so I imagined them. In a perfect world, this wouldn\u2019t be necessary, it\u2019s too painful, anyway.<\/p>\n
My mother took my hand wondering how different the world would be without me. There\u2019s no bond stronger than a mother and her firstborn. She was content to know that I had what many did not. The thing that everyone possesses, but not everyone can find.<\/p>\n
The electrocardiogram was only seconds away from flatlining.<\/p>\n
Reality sunk in for my three siblings, when two nurses rushed in, they\u2019ve come to learn that they\u2019ve parted with someone who was always there for them, someone irreplaceable.<\/p>\n
My world is filled with colors: red, blue, orange, yellow, pink, green, and purple, my canvas has been completed, my story coming to an end.<\/p>\n
My grip on my mother\u2019s hand loosens, falling away slowly…And then with one last breath that never comes out, I beat my last heartbeat with serenity in mind…<\/p>\n
until it beats no more.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Bianca Alicea It\u2019s been 11months of being in a coma. I could breathe on my own but was unsure of how much longer I wanted to. I even had the luxury to hear faint noises and conversations. I gave myself two options\u2014I guess you could consider this an intervention\u2014but a permanent one. The first was… <\/p>\n