Final Conversations
Last night, I had a vision. A saddening vision. A freaky vision to some. But a vision nonetheless. How much truth the vision holds is subjected to criticism but I’m going to share my vision with everyone anyway. The people in my vision were silent. All that could be heard was the sound of my voice and the sounds of emotions.
The room was cold and dark except for the faint glow of a fluorescent light situated a few meters from where I laid. I was lying on a bed with white sheets. I saw machines with colourful diods and funny beeps echoed in the still of the night.
There I was, lying on the bed with my head area prepped up as if I was waiting to have a conversation with someone. I was. Around the bed, a white curtain closes around me. I saw shadowy figures moving behind the curtains.
I was wearing a whitish gown with vague patterns on it. The gown looks eerily familiar. To my shock, I had very little hair left on my scalp. It’s as if big chunks of my hair had fallen off and left patches of tuffs of hair on my head. Yes, I saw myself lying on a hospital bed with tubes going into my nostrils and veins. Yes, I was dying.
Dying of cancer.
My face has sunk. My skin has lost its elasticity and is worn out. Pale yellow was the colour of my skin. Dark circles surrounded my eyes as if I’ve not slept for days. My eyes were glazed over. My eyes looked cold and lost. Still, I managed to put a smile on my face so as to calm the tension that was building up around me. My cheeks looked rubbery as I forced a smile to appear.
There were whispers and soft cries behind the white curtain. My eyes strain with what’s left of my optical muscles. My lips cracked from dehydration. In the stillness and coldness of the silent night, my voice box managed to call out some names.
My Parents
My mom, holding on to my dad, pushed the curtains away gently and walked in. As dark as the room was, I saw crystal-like fluids falling from my mother’s eyes. Her nose and eyes were red from crying. Dad was trying to calm her down but has little success in hiding his own pain and grief. With much effort, I looked up at them and motioned them to sit on the side of my bed.
My mom’s face, stricken with grief and sadness tried to put a smile on her face with hopes of perhaps giving me an against-all-odds hope that I might stay on. That was not going to happen. I looked at my parents with tears welling up in my own glazed eyes. The sight was painful. Painful to see my own parents crying. I managed to make myself comfortable on the hospital bed with little strength I had. Then, our conversation began.
“Hi”, I managed to utter.
I forced another smile. Tears filled up the crevices of the wrinkles on my face as I tried to maintain the smile. Mom leaned forward to wipe the salty fluids off my face while barely containing hers.
“Mom, there’s just so much to say but there’s so little time. I’m glad you and papa have been with me all this time. But, you know, it’s time.”
Mom just couldn’t contain herself anymore and just burst into tears. It must be painful to hear her own son tell her something like that. I wouldn’t know. I never had the chance to have my own children. Dad wrapped his arms around her to try to calm her down. I continued.
“I know you’ve always wanted a son that you could be proud of. From the days of my secondary school life, right up to now. I’m sorry that I could not complete my course on time. I know you are disappointed. I’m sorry. I may have let you down on various occasions and I assure you, its not how I planned it to be.”
Mom just stared at me with so much love in her eyes that I just couldn’t hold back my tears any longer. I wept. I wept so much that I never thought it was possible to produce so much tears. I pressed on.
The room was cold and dark except for the faint glow of a fluorescent light situated a few meters from where I laid. I was lying on a bed with white sheets. I saw machines with colourful diods and funny beeps echoed in the still of the night.
There I was, lying on the bed with my head area prepped up as if I was waiting to have a conversation with someone. I was. Around the bed, a white curtain closes around me. I saw shadowy figures moving behind the curtains.
I was wearing a whitish gown with vague patterns on it. The gown looks eerily familiar. To my shock, I had very little hair left on my scalp. It’s as if big chunks of my hair had fallen off and left patches of tuffs of hair on my head. Yes, I saw myself lying on a hospital bed with tubes going into my nostrils and veins. Yes, I was dying.
Dying of cancer.
My face has sunk. My skin has lost its elasticity and is worn out. Pale yellow was the colour of my skin. Dark circles surrounded my eyes as if I’ve not slept for days. My eyes were glazed over. My eyes looked cold and lost. Still, I managed to put a smile on my face so as to calm the tension that was building up around me. My cheeks looked rubbery as I forced a smile to appear.
There were whispers and soft cries behind the white curtain. My eyes strain with what’s left of my optical muscles. My lips cracked from dehydration. In the stillness and coldness of the silent night, my voice box managed to call out some names.
My Parents
My mom, holding on to my dad, pushed the curtains away gently and walked in. As dark as the room was, I saw crystal-like fluids falling from my mother’s eyes. Her nose and eyes were red from crying. Dad was trying to calm her down but has little success in hiding his own pain and grief. With much effort, I looked up at them and motioned them to sit on the side of my bed.
My mom’s face, stricken with grief and sadness tried to put a smile on her face with hopes of perhaps giving me an against-all-odds hope that I might stay on. That was not going to happen. I looked at my parents with tears welling up in my own glazed eyes. The sight was painful. Painful to see my own parents crying. I managed to make myself comfortable on the hospital bed with little strength I had. Then, our conversation began.
“Hi”, I managed to utter.
I forced another smile. Tears filled up the crevices of the wrinkles on my face as I tried to maintain the smile. Mom leaned forward to wipe the salty fluids off my face while barely containing hers.
“Mom, there’s just so much to say but there’s so little time. I’m glad you and papa have been with me all this time. But, you know, it’s time.”
Mom just couldn’t contain herself anymore and just burst into tears. It must be painful to hear her own son tell her something like that. I wouldn’t know. I never had the chance to have my own children. Dad wrapped his arms around her to try to calm her down. I continued.
“I know you’ve always wanted a son that you could be proud of. From the days of my secondary school life, right up to now. I’m sorry that I could not complete my course on time. I know you are disappointed. I’m sorry. I may have let you down on various occasions and I assure you, its not how I planned it to be.”
Mom just stared at me with so much love in her eyes that I just couldn’t hold back my tears any longer. I wept. I wept so much that I never thought it was possible to produce so much tears. I pressed on.
