The Torture of a Beating Heart
The heart is the most sensitive organ. It is the powerhouse that keeps us alive, the generator that keeps our blood pumping. Without it, we wouldn’t be alive to see the light of day. Our hearts can break, shatter into a mix of pieces that not even professional grade super glue could put back together. It is a fragile substance of flesh and blood. Our hearts keep us from falling apart, but they can also deceive us right from the start. They make fall in and out of love, make us know what it is to be alive. It’s too bad some of them are the reason why so many of us die.
My father was a man who learned to know what it is when your heart takes a path of its own devices. Who learned what it was to have your own …show more content…
He only groaned and made what I can only recall as “pirate noises”. He never did answer my question and I never expected him to. Only minutes later did my father utter a single sentence between grunts and groans, “I think I’m having a heart attack.” And after driving for what felt like hours, we arrived at the hospital.
My mother and grandmother helped my father walk inside as my sisters and I trailed behind them. My father didn’t speak, only clutched his chest as if he was trying to pull out the heart that lay beneath it, as if the torture of a beating heart had grown too strong for him.
Nurses began to rush over at the alarming sight, pushing my father into a wheelchair, hovering over him, doing God only knows what as we watched quietly.
My father’s features never changed, not once did I see him grow calm or look at me and smile, the sure sign that it was alright. Not once did my father gave me a look that said death was not at his door as I watched the nurses wheel him away.
My mother and grandmother stayed silent for a few moments, just sitting and staring at some unforeseen thing before whispering to each other. Talking about a thing called a “heart attack”. Even the doctors who my mother had spoken to later on also talked about the same …show more content…
“The doctors told me, if your father would’ve waited another minute, would have never gone to the hospital, he could have died.”
But he didn’t die, he didn’t succumb to the numbing pain he had been in all those years ago. He held onto his life, held onto all he held dear, held onto all his fears.
My father was never the same after that. He seemed to value his life a lot more than he did before. He started to lose weight, eat healthier, found ways to live life to the fullest. He learned how to value his life, and he taught me those same values.
If I have learned something, if anything from that dark memory of mine, is that your life is your own and you should value it. Because one day, without any reason or rhyme, something will take the life that is rightfully yours.
You should never succumb to what makes you numb. You should never let the dark moments get you, never let the painful events of the past stain your bright future. You shouldn’t let despair rule over it’s greatest enemy. Your life isn’t yours to betray, dismay or enslave you. If anything, you should value your life, live it to the best of your abilities. You should see the beauty of life as it is made to
The heart is the most sensitive organ. It is the powerhouse that keeps us alive, the generator that keeps our blood pumping. Without it, we wouldn’t be alive to see the light of day. Our hearts can break, shatter into a mix of pieces that not even professional grade super glue could put back together. It is a fragile substance of flesh and blood. Our hearts keep us from falling apart, but they can also deceive us right from the start. They make fall in and out of love, make us know what it is to be alive. It’s too bad some of them are the reason why so many of us die.
My father was a man who learned to know what it is when your heart takes a path of its own devices. Who learned what it was to have your own …show more content…
He only groaned and made what I can only recall as “pirate noises”. He never did answer my question and I never expected him to. Only minutes later did my father utter a single sentence between grunts and groans, “I think I’m having a heart attack.” And after driving for what felt like hours, we arrived at the hospital.
My mother and grandmother helped my father walk inside as my sisters and I trailed behind them. My father didn’t speak, only clutched his chest as if he was trying to pull out the heart that lay beneath it, as if the torture of a beating heart had grown too strong for him.
Nurses began to rush over at the alarming sight, pushing my father into a wheelchair, hovering over him, doing God only knows what as we watched quietly.
My father’s features never changed, not once did I see him grow calm or look at me and smile, the sure sign that it was alright. Not once did my father gave me a look that said death was not at his door as I watched the nurses wheel him away.
My mother and grandmother stayed silent for a few moments, just sitting and staring at some unforeseen thing before whispering to each other. Talking about a thing called a “heart attack”. Even the doctors who my mother had spoken to later on also talked about the same …show more content…
“The doctors told me, if your father would’ve waited another minute, would have never gone to the hospital, he could have died.”
But he didn’t die, he didn’t succumb to the numbing pain he had been in all those years ago. He held onto his life, held onto all he held dear, held onto all his fears.
My father was never the same after that. He seemed to value his life a lot more than he did before. He started to lose weight, eat healthier, found ways to live life to the fullest. He learned how to value his life, and he taught me those same values.
If I have learned something, if anything from that dark memory of mine, is that your life is your own and you should value it. Because one day, without any reason or rhyme, something will take the life that is rightfully yours.
You should never succumb to what makes you numb. You should never let the dark moments get you, never let the painful events of the past stain your bright future. You shouldn’t let despair rule over it’s greatest enemy. Your life isn’t yours to betray, dismay or enslave you. If anything, you should value your life, live it to the best of your abilities. You should see the beauty of life as it is made to