Take me.

Take Me.

Beep, Beep, Beep

I lay here,
listening to the consistent beeping
of the machine next to me.
Wondering how long it will take me
before I finally get out of this horrid dream
and be able to see the light
- my freedom.

I lay here,
being able to hear everything around me yet
I cannot move nor can I see;
I simply lay.
I'm as useless as dead;
a body that breathes and does nothing else.

I pray:
"Lord, just take me, allow me to finally rest
in peace...take the burden off my fami -"
Family.
My family.

I have fought so hard and long for them, thinking that after this nightmare,
after all that this has put my loved ones through,
it would all pay off
and I can once more be with them -
laugh, cry and love with them.

I can handle the pain,
the nasty liquids they shove down my throat
and through my veins.
I can handle it - all of it -
just for them.

I can't stand
laying here and listening to my children
sit next to me and tell me
how much they love me and that I'll be okay.

Oh, how I wish I could say those words:
I love you,
how I wish that I could be okay.

My sickness
has taken a toll on my children.
They are suffering because I have to be here,
and I can't do anything about it.
Maybe, just maybe,
if I fight a little longer I can make it;
make it home.

Oh, who am I kidding.
I can't believe I'm thinking this,
I'm not the person to give up, but I'm just -
just so tired.

Tired of fighting a battle I know I will lose.
This nightmare is more of a burden to my family than anything else;
so, I pray, "Lord, just take me."

I felt my son take hold of my hand
telling me, once again,
that I'll be okay and that he loves me.

And then, I saw it, the light.
I make my way to that light;
my freedom - my family's freedom
and I felt this surge of power
and with my last attempt I whispered the words.
"I love you."

Beeeeeeeeeeeeep.

-----------------------------------

This is a monologue that I wrote for my drama class last year on behalf of my grandmother.
She was in the hospital fighting cancer.
She had a brain tumor and they said she would die
and that we should take her home because they couldn't do anything; they stopped trying.
And of course, we couldn't stand that so we remained with her in that hospital helping her with our strength and love.
Because that's what she would've done.
That's what she had always done.
Never had she spent a day in her life living for herself.
Selfless is too little a word.
She had a beautiful soul.
She was the perfect image of a saint.
She is.
An angel.
Forever.
I love you, nanima.

Hare Krishna.