Just Think

Back Again

I was standing just off the to the side. A proud smile on my face. We were all waiting, waiting to hear Bridget's name be called, for her to run up on stage and get her diploma. It had been almost five years she had been attending Oxford University in London. It had always been her dream school. She was studying English, so she could be a teacher. And we were all there. Our parents, Georgie, who had just turned eleven, Penelope, who had just turned nine, and myself, who was now a very healthy seventeen year old.

"Bridget Webster." the tall man called out. An even wider smile came across my face. She looked absolutely beautiful. I had never been more proud of someone ever before than I did right now.

She ran over to us, giggling. An accomplished smile on her face. Today was all about her. And that was okay. I had taken enough attention away over the years, they all deserved to be the center of it instead of behind it.

"oh hunny, we're so proud of you! Just look how beautiful you look with your cap and gown!" my mother sang. There were fresh years in her eyes , that she was unsuccessfully trying to hold back. My dad had her hand held, smiling brightly.

"Okay! Who's ready to eat? My dad asked.

"I AM! I AM!" Georgie and Penelope screamed. They were dancing around us, mumbling something about ice cream.

But all of a sudden everything was just more quiet and blurry. I couldn't focus on one thing, I felt weak in my legs and fairly dizzy.

"What about you champ?" I heard someone ask, but it sounded like they were far away. Everything was just moving to fast. It seemed like the room was spinning. I had been looking at the ground, and now I was looking at the ceiling. And then it went black.

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I was waking up, I could see the white ceilings coming into vision, I could hear a distance beep. The hospital. I was about to turn over and see if anyone was there when I heard voices entering my room, I quickly shut my eyes and pretended to be sound asleep. It was easy, I had been doing it for years. How else wouldi know anything else about myself and my disease. Everyone else is to afraid to say it to my face.

"- I'm afraid so."

"it can't be true, she's been clear for almost five years!"

"Mr.Webster, you have to understand, the type of Cancer Matty had was very rare. You were told in the beginning that the chances of curing it were very low. The fact that Matty lasted this long is a miracle. You should just make sure she is comfortable these next few months, bring her home. Let her say goodbye. I'm afraid she won't have many more months before she gets to sick."

And with that, I drifted back to sleep, fresh tears stuck in the corners of my eyes. Only a few months and that be it. I'd be gone, and then my family would mourn for awhile, then they'd move on, clear out my room, sell my things, make me only a distant memory to them. But we all know death isn't that easy, it has a way of making you remember the ones you lost.

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It was late in the next day when I had finally woken up. My parents were there sitting next to my bed, my mom had my hand held gently, I could hear her softly crying. My dad was rubbing her back, and mumbling soothing words in her ear. I'd like to be able to say I woke up that day, telling them everything was alright and that I'd be fine. But it wasn't, I wasn't. I wasn't ready to die, I didn't want to go home and say goodbye to everyone that I cared about. I don't want to see their sadness and pity. I wanted to go back to Bridget's graduation and see them smiling, I wanted to go back and tell my dad that yeah, I was hungry, I wanted to go back and tell Penelope how beautiful she looked all dressed up. I just wanted to go back to before. Before I was dragged back to a world filled with death, back before I entered a world filled with no hope for me to grow old, to be married to someone I love. Because that's another thing Cancer takes away from you. It takes away the chance of you to have a life.

While I was sitting there Pretending to listen to my parents tell me something I already knew, I though about how I would die, when it would happen. Would my parents have a funeral? Surely they would. Would my friends come to it? Would anyone come to it? Would I even want to have one? Why would I want a bunch of people that never knew what I was going through, stand up in front of everyone else and sputter out some little speech about how brave and courages I was. How I had a long battle with cancer. And how I was so strong throughout it all. Because in truth, I wasn't. I was weak and afraid, some days I was afraid it be the last time I saw any of my siblings. I wasn't brave, I was a coward. I thought multiple times about ending it all after some treatment failed. And the thought of suicide alone is selfish. So why would I want anyone there saying lies about me because it was what you did at a funeral. I'm not a hero, I'm not war veteran, I'm just Matty Webster, a kid who just happened to get cancer like a million other people. I'm not special. I didn't do anything to help anyone else. I'm selfish. And I was not about to let cancer turn me into something I'm not.

" I dont want a funeral." I state cutting my father off in the middle of his little rant.

"I don't want you guys to have a funeral for me, you can take me and bury me, but I don't want anyone there crying or saying nice things about me, telling stories, because in all honesty there's nothing to tell, I spent my life in a room with four white walls, wearing and white hospital gown and watching my hair fall out and knowing there's nothing I can't o about it. So please, for me, do not have a funeral, don't get dressed up, don't put yourselves through it." by the end of my little speech I was crying. It had been so long since I cried. It felt good, I felt relieved. So I smile, and then I started to laugh. My parents looked at me like I was gone mad, but I had felt just so happy. I didn't knew why, but I was just so light and joyful, I felt almost at peace. And then I realized. I was content.

I was content with dying.