one year later.

[superboots]

January 14th, 2006. This will be a date forever etched in my memory. Mid afternoon at the hospital, crying and crying over a lifeless body connected to a billion tubes - blinking lights, beeping sounds. My mom didn't reach him fast enough - his brain had been deprived from oxygen for so long, resulting in profound brain damage. The only sign of life was his heartbeat, strong and steady. He'd never recover, the doctor said, and he'd be in a persistent vegetative state for the rest of his life. We could either remove the ventilator that was keeping him alive, or ultimately watch him die after his heart gives out. The nurse removes the ventilator, a scene that I forced myself to watch. We all hold each other, watching the screen of the ventilator, desperate for a miracle, praying that something will happen. But, it doesn't. After a minute, which felt like the longest minute of my life, his heartbeat flatlines on the monitor, and it's all over. My step-father has lost his only son, a son he tried so hard to keep safe and help get his life around, to a drug overdose. We stare at each other blankly, unsure of where to begin or what to say.

It's so morbidly beautiful, watching someone die. I've seen two people die in the past year or so. The second a person dies, you can see it in their face. The rosy flesh color of life instantly turns to a light gray, and their face is left with a serene look. Almost as if saying that everything is going to be okay, not to worry. But is it really?

I sit in the parking lot of the funeral home, listening to "Late" by Ben Folds, and tears begin streaming down my face.

"But it's too late
It's too late
Don't you know
it's been too late
for a long time..."