Chapter One: Balloons
As I lie in my bed, I realize something magnificent. My life is not flashing before my eyes, but rather, facing a certain death, my mind is playing back so many moments, experiences, and quite frankly every chapter of my life. From my earliest memories of childhood to the birth of my first baby to my first stroke. It was all there as vivid as the day I lived it.
How beautiful, I thought. The happy times like getting married, right down to the sad times like losing my Grandparents. I think back to what one of my Mentors in my twenties, Mr. Mallen used to say, “The story of our lives are merely the pages of experiences we choose to create.” As my very own mini-movie is playing in my brain, I can hear the voices coming down the hospital hall.
The life moment playing in my mind right now is the vivid image of the hot air balloons. Every weekday, my mom would drive us on this big curve of highway and off in the distance you could see these hot air balloons. Every single morning these balloons would be visible out in the distance of the highway. I wish I could take the happiness I felt in those mornings and bottle it. I always wondered who the people in those balloons were. What were they doing so early in the morning, drifting over the fields and mountains looking down on the busy highways filled with people rushing to work and school. Looking back, I regret never getting into a hot air balloon and taking time to just live. Rushing through life is more what I did.
“Mr. Sanchez, it is time”I can hear the voices crystal clear as if they are right next to me, yet they sound so distant as if coming from another dimension. Time for what? I wondered. Time for lunch? Time to go to work? Time to go home… That’s it I realized. It is time for me to go home to hospice. My time is up. It is my time to cease to exist here on Earth.
“Mr. Sanchez, can you hear me?” If I pretend I can’t hear her, will all of this go away?, I wondered.
I tried to speak out despite the weakness and pain in my body. It’s an amazing thing, death. All the things I constantly worried about, like leaving my family with enough money, or traveling to all my bucket list destinations, or apologizing to my 4th grade teacher for swiping her stamps, seem to matter very little as I lay here dying. For the first time in my life, I am stress free.
“Mr. Sanchez-““Yeeea’, I mumbled.
“Your transportation, will be here soon” she said.
I recognize the voice now. Her name is Rose. The nicest Nurse Assistant a guy could ever know. I had spent so much time with her over the last four months, I felt like I knew her personally. After my stroke, she brought me coffee from her house. I never could tolerate that hospital coffee. That and the looks you get from drinking coffee after a stroke.
“Rose”, I semi-shouted, finally getting the strength to talk.
“Yes, Mr. Sanchez”
“I never got to write my book”
“You’ve lived a great life, Mr. Sanchez” she replied as if she did not know quite how to reply
“I have a story to tell, and I always seemed to procrastinate about writing that fucking book”
I can feel my heart starting to squeeze again.
“I feel like I am leaving this life with so much left I wanted to do and say and write”
Rose reached over and grabbed my hand.
“Rose?, Can, I tell you my story?”
“Sure”, she smiled“What is it about?” she asked
“Before I tell you, can you put on that oldies rap station I love?”
“You got it!”, she said.
Rose turns on the Oldies Rap Station and wouldn’t you know it. One of my favorite groups singing a song that seems to fit perfectly this chapter of my life. In the background plays Bone Thugs, “If Heaven Had A Cellphone”. I was always fascinated with the chops and cadence of the verses when I was younger. Now it is the hook that stands out to me, now that I am an old man.
I wish Heaven had a cell phone/Wanna hear your voice, wanna hear your voice/ I wish heaven had a cellphone.. And what I wouldn’t give to hear your voice again./I wish heaven had a cell phone...
“So” she interjects, realizing I am drifting into deep thought, “what is your story about”?
“It's about time” I replied. That’s all this life is about is time. Where you spend your time, who you spend your time with, and how happy you are during your time here on God’s green Earth.
She pulled up a chair.
“This is it, I thought” My chance to tell my story and scratch one last item off my bucket list before I go. I looked up at her and Began at the only logical place to begin.