Death is in love with my destiny. I witnessed it way before I even understood what it is. As I grew up, the person who introduced me to death, also passed away. First my mother, who died giving birth to me, then my father, and now it’s me I guess.

I do not remember the mishap. My memories were blanching away. As I opened my eyes, I noticed an oxygen mask and several bandages all over my body. There was this eerie smell in the alabaster like room. It was a hospital.

This place definitely heard more cries than a mosque, or church. Some meant good news. Some meant broken hearts. I got up from the bed, and started walking. I noticed a father’s tears shimmering like dew droplets on grasses as the moonlight falls, as he held his newborn daughter for the first time. I also saw a huge crowd gathering over something.

“What is it?” I said. No one seemed to care.

I went near, and what I saw was mind-boggling. It was me. They were covering me.

“Who is he? Why does he look like me? What happened to him?” I shouted. No one seemed to care.

After the longest sixty seconds of my life, or maybe as some people would say, afterlife, I figured I could walk through walls, call people by names without them hearing it, and cry without anyone caring for me.

I noticed doctors inside operation theatres declaring one dead, without even doing a proper operation. I noticed a morose wife shouting at a doctor for not being successful to bring her husband back to life. I noticed a lot of blood almost everywhere.

Then came my family. My wife looked pale and anxious. She doesn’t know that I am no longer waking up, I said to myself. The most beautiful woman I ever saw in my life broke into tears as Dr. Katherine whispered something to her ear.

“Mommy, what happened to Daddy?” asked my three year old prince who never knew what death is.

“Daddy is dreaming. He is dreaming of you, me and him, playing together.”

“The dream will come true! Right mommy?”

My wife wept as she hugged him.

The doctor who was assigned to take care of me rushed along with some nurses to my room. He placed a pacemaker on my chest. After a few seconds, he said softly, “Note the time of death.”

My wife ran into the room after a minute and I started screaming.

“Doctor! I will be okay right? Tell me! I have a wife and a son! I deserve to live!” I said to the deaf people around me.  

There was this green line on a screen that never changed its gradient. My wife looked at it and touched my hands. She kissed my forehead, and spoke in a low soft voice.

“You are the best thing that happened to me. I live for you. I live for us. I live for our children to grow up one day. I loved you way before you even proposed to me. I never told you that. Well, I said yes to your proposal. I promised to be your life partner. Now you promise me what you said during the vow. You promised to be together forever, during my difficult times; during my sickness. I am sick, honey. I am sick of people leaving me. Don’t leave me.” She put her head on my chest and began to weep again.

Within the next few seconds, a miracle took place. The green line danced up and down like tides on an ocean. My wife called the doctor as soon as she saw it.

“Doctor! Doctor! He is breathing! Come save him!”

Never have I ever seen such desperate eyes waiting for a man who isn’t supposed to come back. Never have I ever noticed such sympathy for a dead body. Never have I ever loved someone who loved me more than she loved herself.

I felt something. My chest was aching. I fell down and called the deaf people around me. The more the pulses of my heartbeat moved in the monitor, the more painful it was.

The next thing I know is waking up on a hospital bed, which was different than the one I woke up at the first place.

It’s all in my head.

That day I knew how precious life was. Not because I got to breathe. Because two beautiful people made me believe in miracles. Those two people made me believe in a family.