34. Carmela
Carmela
D eath is a fickle thing. It will swallow you whole, rolling you in its fiery bowels before deciding it doesn’t hunger for the taste of your flesh. So it spits you back out. Sometimes, you emerge from its depths whole, and sometimes you're …less .
Less angry.
Less hurt.
Less focused on little things that don’t matter.
And wholly focused on what does. Like spending as much time as possible with the people you love and who love you.
I can hear everything—the beep of the machines keeping me alive, the soft murmurings of someone next to my bed. I can hear every little thing, but I can’t open my eyes and tell whoever is by my side I’m alright. It’s a battle to leave this in between that I seem to be trapped in.
And I’m tired—so tired.
But the voice is begging me to fight. So I focus on it. I gather my strength to make my way toward it…and, in the meantime, I listen to the person pleading to God to bring me back.
Because they love me.
And I fight.
Because I love them, too.