If I Stay

I barely remember anything from the crash—only finding my parents and then realizing there even had been an accident.

Is it even worth remembering?

I remember driving. I remember asking to put on different music and Dad played Vivaldi. My fingers fluttered along to the music as it played.

I remember closing my eyes, almost feeling the cello in my hand as the notes surrounded me.

I don't know what prompted me to open my eyes but I did, and that's when I saw the truck. I remember the jolt. The hard, aggressive toss like going up, down, and side to side on a rollercoaster of nightmares. It was huge. I guess you don't really realize how big a truck is until it's too close to you. Then, complete darkness.

I don't know why it didn't just end there.

The first thing I saw after the truck was a blur. Blues and purples and greens started to appear until I was able to slightly make out an image of the icy road where I saw my parents. When the world became clearer is when I realized the connection between me and my body was completely destroyed. I remember being convinced I was dead and felt a certain relieve knowing that at least I have my family with me. Twisted, but true.

I don't know why it didn't just end there.

I couldn't understand really anything that was going on until the ambulance came and I saw my parents getting bundled up and me put on the stretcher. Then, I became aware of the undeniable fact that my parents were dead and I wasn't. A new wave of confusion flooded over me: I didn't understand why I didn't feel anything, not even the coldness of the ice and snow, and I especially didn't understand why I wasn't feeling the world coming crashing down by my parents being gone. I didn't even know living or dying was my choice until the nurse told me and I didn't even know if she meant it. How did she even know I could hear her? People always talk about how death is this great unknown. Try living.

I sat there in the hospital room for probably longer than I should've just thinking. I thought and thought…about Kim, about Adam, Gran and Gramps, Julliard and music. How could I leave all of that behind? Then I thought, why did they have to leave me behind—Mom and Dad.

Why did we have to be on that road?

A wave of anger flooded over me, and as the wave flowed away, sadness replaced it, sadness more painful than the countless tubes going in and out of my broken, unmoving body. Why couldn't they be here too? Deciding. I wish I could just see them or talk to them. I wish Teddy wasn't gone. He didn't deserve this. I thought back again about his curly hair and sweet smile. I thought about the way he banged on those cymbals celebrating his snow day. I might have a lot to live for, but what if I want to be with them more? No matter what, I am what I fear most:

Alone.

I can't wake up to feel more pain than this. I am afraid, terrified. For the first time since the accident, I feel it again.

The prayers. They feel like words lifting me up and make me feel light and airy. It's a whole lot of references to God that simply just made me wonder why this was all up to me. Isn't that sort of his deal?

They begin flooding in faster than before.

"God, please bring her back. Please just help her"

"I pray for the health of this poor young girl. Lord please help her"

"Mia better not die or I'm going to be so so so so so so so mad. Come on God. Please just help us out here. We're waiting for her to wake up. Just make her wake up. Please wake up."

I knew that one was Kim. Suddenly the words she whispered in my ear echoed as my mind is brought back to some type of reality.

"You still have a family" I wish it made me feel better. I wish I thought it were true. I wish it was enough. What exactly do I even have to live for?

As all of these words amplify in my head as one singular word overpowers the others. It's one I haven't heard yet, "Stay." It's Adam. I feel a flood of sadness surround me as I hear his voice. His words echo and fade, but I can only hear that one word. Stay. I realize that I am not sad because I miss him or because I want to be with him. I'm sad because I know I will let him down. I know that he is going to be hurting. He'll be crushed when I go, but I can't do this. I never thought the demand to stay would help me decide to leave. A great love or cello scholarship wouldn't mean anything without my family to enjoy it with me. One thing is for sure, I realize now that dying is easy. Living is hard. I've always done the hard thing. Maybe it's time I did something I actually wanted to do.

I have to do this. I can't fully explain why other than feeling a pull toward something that I couldn't understand. I just need to see them: Mom, Dad, and little Teddy. I hope they're rocking out to anything other than Alice Cooper. I feel warmth for the first time since the accident and sense myself grow lighter. Suddenly hospital noises bellow overwhelming my senses. Nurses rush toward my body and I hear one nurse barking demands at others trying to revive my diminishing body. I knew there was only one more thing to do. I stepped out of my little hospital room and see…well…pure chaos. Nurses and doctors are running in every direction and flying in and out of my room. I walk down the hallway and start toward the waiting area. Adam is inconsolable; he can't sit or stand still. He knows. I figure he can't feel it, but I reach for his hand that's covering his face in complete agony. I felt his hurt, and I knew it would last longer than I'd ever want Adam to be hurt, but I also knew that it was something that needed to be done. I don't know if he felt my hand on his, but I felt him become calm.

Adam sat and took a long, deep breath. This was my goodbye. I heard him whisper, "I love you" and I squeezed his hand tighter hoping he knew I love him too. I always will. I really don't know if he can feel my hand, but I think he knows what I am trying to say. The bellowing hospital sounds begin to fade as I move toward my grandparents. I lightly kiss their cheeks and also sense some calmness from them just like Adam. I sit next to Kim and hear her let out soft, light cries. She's always so tough. Step by step the sounds grow quieter, I feel lighter, and the warmth spreads and grows throughout my entire body. I know they probably can't hear me, but I let out what I hope they can somehow understand.

"I love you. I'm sorry. Goodbye."