Flat-Lined

It was early morning when I was abruptly awoken by my dad who pulled me to the car. The rain fell on my face and I was cold to the bone, a feeling which I will never forget. Half-awake, I was buckled in my seat as we drove down route 70. The headlights from the passing cars streamed by going the opposite direction. I was oblivious to what was happening and wasn’t sure if I should even ask where we were going. The expression on my Dad’s face left me silent the whole ride there. We arrived at St. John’s Hospital, a place where my Grandma was kept for observation due to recent heart failure. I would visit her every day but this day felt different. We rushed through the building’s entrance at an urgent pace. I thought to myself that something must have happened. We were directed to the room where my Grandma was kept. I expected to see her perfect smile but all I could hear was the long eerie beep of a flat-lined patient.

The inevitable had happened. My heart sank and all sound had vanished except the unbroken beep of the machine. It remained ringing its death calling sound. Many people rushed by me as I stood in the middle of the room like a statue. I was lost under a blanket of pain. Meanwhile, my dad held his mother’s hand and cried into his elbow. The doctor who had tried so hard to save her stood behind him giving a concerned pat on the back. A few minutes later, a kind nurse led me to a chair in the corner of the room. All sound had returned but the pain of loss remained. It was hard to face the truth that I had lost someone dear to me.

Two days passed and a funeral was arranged by my relatives. It was a sad day for all of us especially my dad who took it the hardest. The tears were endless during the ceremony for my Grandma was loved by many. When the day was done and everyone had gone home, I went to my room to be alone still dressed in my suit. I stared straight as if my life was at a standstill. I could still hear the flat-line machine ringing so I played my music from my mp3 player then drifted away with the melody. This was the only way I could pass the time and cope with the loss. All of a sudden, my dad came through the door and sat on the bed next to me holding a well-packaged gift. It was addressed to me. He handed it over and said, “Your grandma left you this and told me to give it to you after she passed.” I grabbed the package then hugged my dad who desperately needed affection to raise his spirits. He left me to open the gift alone then closed the door behind him.

I stared at the package for some time wondering what my Grandma could have possibly left me. Maybe it’s a set of drawing pencils or a new sketchbook. I began to unwrap the package. Every fiber of my being started to shake as I untied the red ribbon. The white paper that surrounded the gift unfolded ever so gently and soon a little black notebook emerged from inside. I recognized it instantly for it was my Grandma’s diary. This wasn’t a complete history of her life but more so about the times we had together. For a few moments, it felt like my Grandma was with me again as I opened the cover to the black book.

I began to read, and the memories which I held dear were alive in my head like an old video. From the times we fed the chickens early morning to the times we watched old movies during my sleepovers. My favorite memory was when we baked apple pie in the kitchen. We even collected our own apples from the 25-year-old trees outside my Grandma’s house. The pain slipped back again, and my eyes started to tear up. I began to hear the faint ring of the flat-line machine. In anger, I slammed the book shut and threw it on my desk. It seemed like this pain would never leave me. In the corner of my eye, I noticed something sticking out of the diary. It was a white envelope. I hadn’t noticed it before but curiosity got the best of me. I stumbled over to the desk wiping my tears and grabbed the envelope. Inside was a handwritten letter that read:

“Dear Grandson,

If you’re reading this, then the inevitable has happened and I am gone. We’ve had great times together and did amazing things. Your future will be rough and you will face many challenges. Don’t let these discourage you from your dreams. Follow the path you create for yourself and don’t stray into despair or regret.

A motto I always followed was “You should remember the past, plan for the future, and live in the present.” Treat each day as if it was your last because you never know when death creeps up on your doorstep. I hope these words give you the confidence to move on and keep me in your heart.

Now here is something you must know. A few years ago, before I beacme ill, I played Bingo at the Lion’s Club every weekend with my friends. Over the past years, I put aside all my winnings into a fund for you and your future. Use the $20,000 dollars wisely my dear boy and become the man you were born to be. Live an honest and extraordinary life because you are an extraordinary Grandson. Now remember, ordinary people take the easiest road but extraordinary people know that roads aren’t meant to be straight.”

At this moment, my heart began to race. The sound of the flat-line machine rang once more but then I remembered my Grandma’s words: “Ordinary people take the easiest road but extraordinary people know that roads aren’t meant to be straight.” The long eerie beep that once played in my head was gone and I made a promise to myself. I would never take the straight path like a flat-line machine but instead, follow the road that would make my Grandma proud.