Death. No one likes to talk about it. It's like the elephant in the room, that everyone sees, but no one acknowledges. Yet it is there. Everywhere. Permeating life. I have a heavy heart tonight. A childhood friend of mine, has a niece, who now lays lifeless in a hospital bed. She is strapped to all kinds of monitors, and contraptions. Surrounded by her loved ones. A machine is breathing for her. As she cannot do it on her own. There has been no brain wave activity for days now. Everyone is praying. Hoping. Wishing. Negotiating with God or whoever it is they believe in, to let her wake up. To bring her back to her family. I don't know if she will wake up. I pray she does. And can return to her life, to her children at home. It appears she has suffered a stroke. She is twenty-six years old.
I keep trying to grasp it, to understand it, but I can't. How could a seemingly healthy, vibrant and beautiful young woman, be perfectly fine one minute, and then the next minute, be in a coma? How does this even happen?
My heart aches for her. For my friend. For all of the family, who now stand in vigil at the hospital.
It kind of puts everything in perspective for me, as far as priorities and mindless, petty, nuances that happen in my life. My sister and I met for dinner the evening. Yet neither one of us could eat. We just sat there, staring at each other, crying, wondering what we could do for them.
Helpless. That's how we feel.
That's all I can do. That's all anyone can do. Well, that and have lots and lots and lots of faith.
I believe in miracles. I am living proof that they can happen. So I still hang on to that little bit of fraying hope, that she will pull through.
Please wake up Ashley.