Death of the Body, Birth of the Soul

Dear Diary,

I almost died today.  It’s okay, I’m already terminally ill.  But still, this incident will forever change what little life I have left. I was walking around town after a visit to the hospital, lost in my own thoughts.  The doctors couldn’t help me.  No one could. At least, that’s what I used to think.  Things are much different now.

I didn’t even notice the car as I crossed the street. I was too busy wallowing in self-pity.  To tell the truth, it didn’t matter to me at all.  But someone else saw it. Of course, she had no idea who I was. All she knew was that that someone was about to get hit, and she acted on instinct. I felt a shove behind me, and I fell to the ground. My first instinct was to yell at whoever it was. Then I saw her standing there, as the car bore down on her.

I remember thinking, my God, this can’t be happening!  I’m the one that was supposed to die, not her! I asked myself, “Is it irony that this woman would die trying to save a man who’s already dead?” I knew I couldn’t let her die. Not for my sake.

I had to take her to the hospital. It wasn’t very far; I’d just left there. I didn’t want to bother with waiting or any of that nonsense. As if waiting ever helped me any. I used every ounce of strength I had in me, and picked her up. Her body was limp, and blood slipped through my fingers. I could feel her ragged breath on me, as I carried her.

I moved as fast as I could, bursting through the main entrance and shouting for help. It wasn’t long before they took the woman from my arms and carted her off somewhere. I tried to follow them, but suddenly I felt very weak. I faltered, and then everything went black.

When I woke up I found myself in a hospital bed. I wanted to get to the woman immediately, but a pain shot up, and I had to stay. I remember lying there in that bed, looking onto the wall across from me. There was Jesus on the Cross, looking back at me. After I had found out I was going to die, I had given up praying to God.  But at that moment, He was the only one I wanted to talk to.

I asked Him to let me live.  Not for too long, but just enough to let me know that the woman was all right. To give me a chance to thank her for giving me another look at the life I’ve lived. To this very moment, I am thankful that He granted my prayer.

She almost died to save my own life. When I realized that, I finally understood one thing: in her near-sacrifice, she gave me the will to live. Before, there was emptiness inside of me, and it was killing my soul, just as this disease kills my body.  Now I feel more alive than I ever did.

I’ve already started to visit her regularly.  We already talk a lot about past joys and regrets.  I notice that it’s usually me who regrets things.  It’s hard to describe the relief I now feel.  I guess it’s like the cool rain after being roasted by the summer sun. She showed me what it means to live.  And though it may seem trivial for a man who is about to die, I will forever treasure that meaning.  I’d forgotten how important life could be, and I thank her for reminding me.