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Slush on the Sidewalk

Updated on September 11, 2017
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The sound from the constant drip of the IV, both a constant reminder of where I was and why I was there. My grandfather's silent cough though he was asleep revealing just have far gone he was, it was barely a croak.

I envied him, he could leave this world, he had no choice but to accept the calling, his time was near. He knew it and I knew it.

I felt immense sadness for him, I was the only one by his bedside, he had pushed so many people away even I was here not by choice but for the sheer curiosity of watching him die, of watching anyone die.

The light crept through the windows of the dimly lit hospital room and I felt his stare on me from across the room, weak, but the constantness of it alerted me to its presence.

His form slowly became illuminated by the slow creeping light, his old wrinkled skin revealing veins which were so grotesquely displayed.

“I’ll be gone soon.”, he told me. I felt no need to reply.

“I will be resurrected.”, He spoke again. I drifted off from his words as I grew weary of listening to his barely alive voice.

Resurrection, I always wondered about that topic. If I did die and get resurrected, would I want it to be in the state I died in whilst I was old and withered like him?

I wanted to be resurrected in the current state I was in, I walked over to the mirror noticing the slight crinkles under my eyes, I was going to end up like him, I knew it.

I refused to look like him, to die like him, to want to be resurrected like him. It was insanity, it was clear thinking or it could have been the fumes of imminent death surrounding me. Who knows? I couldn’t have.



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My decision was made the second I exited the bathroom walking over to the little overhanging balcony in the hospital room. How happy for him that he had these little pleasures, pity he couldn’t use them as he had been reduced to only moving specific parts of his face.

I walked out onto the balcony, the early morning air biting into my skin, taking a deep breath, I jumped all the way from the 41st floor, I felt free, exonerated more like, I did not feel anything after that.

Maybe if I’d thought of how I’d looked like before I jumped, a bloody mess on the sidewalk, I wouldn’t have jumped, I didn’t want to be resurrected not being whole.

I had a different view, I don’t think I’d ever taken the time to read the biblical meaning of the term only making my final decision based on the dictionary meaning. I doubt I was going to get resurrected now, after all, we were not to take our own lives. Why didn’t I think of that? How can I reverse my decision? Was the small moment of freedom drifting through the air worth and eternity of darkness?

Was I any different though? Everyone does the same thing, right? I mean they do not jump out off of balconies as thoughtlessly as I did or they do base on everything they believe in regardless of what it’s future impact could be, taking a leap without examining the true facts.

My poor grandpa, now he gets to die alone, I think my death was the last straw for him, I think I saw him crying over my dead body, but what do I know now? I am nothing but slush on the sidewalk.

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