18

I’m listening to my favourite music, thinking about adulthood. Perhaps it won’t be so hard. I want to try something new, to make my dreams real. So much traffic on the road. A beautiful evening and pleasant wind are marking the new stage in my life. The world is awaiting me, love is awaiting me, my future …

The shouts float in the air like butterflies …

The traffic lights are flashing in the thick fog. A young man is lying on the grass in an unnatural position, as if in deep sleep. Then people are gathering next to him, shouting muffled words at each other. Another car stops. An ambulance is coming. Some enormous trees emerge from the fog. Between them the black shape of a massive motorbike.

Intensive Care Unit, his new home.

I see him lying on the white bed. His hands like heavy, leafless tree branches. I saw my son’s curly blond hair in the pool of blood. Too young to die, on his eighteenth birthday. It can’t be true. God, make it only a bad dream … I can’t even hold his hand. Do I believe in miracles? I want to open his eyes, I yearn to tell him how important he is for me. He must stay alive, the world is awaiting him. Now a little boy is sitting next to me, laughing loudly, holding a big orange lollipop in his small hand.

Nobody knew how long he’d been lying unconscious. It could’ve been a few minutes, or an hour. Doctors had too little information about the accident. He was in a coma. The damage to the brain was enormous. But there was still, as always, some space reserved for a God’s move. Doctor Hawart was monitoring him, looking at the Glasgow Coma Scale: eye movement – none, verbal response – none, motor response – none. But his heart – strong and stubborn – was beating, as if trying to wake him up!

It was a special gift for him. I remember his happy eyes saying: “Thanks dad. It’s the most beautiful present I ever got!” I made a terrible mistake. I shouldn’t have let him go and try it straightaway, just for fun. Now he’s lying in this white room, dying because of my mistake! I only wanted to make him happy, to show that I’m a good father. Please Tom, wake up. The world is a waiting you! I need you so much. I’m so sorry. I could’ve given you my time, attention and love instead of that stupid motorbike.

Suddenly the nurse pulled down the blinds in the room. ECG became abnormal. The QRS complex widened and T wave inverted too. Doctor Hawart was trying to save his life with electrodes, hoping for a happy ending, but he forgot that life doesn’t have a happy end. Tom had died, but Hawart was still trying, shouting at the scared nurse. Silence. A few minutes past midnight … Tuesday. Then the doctor said with a deep sadness in his voice: “Nurse, write ‘died at midnight’”.

I wake up in complete darkness. I don’t know what to do next. Soon I realize that I’m now in some strange corridor. The lights are on. I see the place is a labyrinth. Which way do I choose? Curiously I follow the first entrance. On the walls there are mirrors in all shapes and sizes, no doors or windows, but it’s bright inside. I keep walking, wondering why I’m here. Then I approach one of these mirrors, just to have a look at myself, but I can’t see my face, only a group of people gathered in a street. Why are they there? In another mirror I see my friends singing but I can’t recall the song’s words and melody. I want to speak to them, but all these pictures suddenly disappear. The strange thing is that I can’t return to the previous mirrors and places. Some unfamiliar force is pushing me forward. Then, in a big wooden frame I see beautiful, huge trees, which I can’t see clearly because of the fog. In he next mirror my parents are sitting in a corridor. I have the feeling that someone is watching them and me. My father is holding mother’s long hands. They aren’t smiling. Mom is wearing a perfect green dress, and dad, as always, his sports clothes. I try to say something to them, to make them laugh, but they can’t hear me. Next, there is a man in a small room, sitting on a wide sofa. I can only read the name on the badge: Hawart, M.D. His face looks familiar. Where could I possibly meet him? I don’t really know any doctors. Then it’s me in the mirror, as a 7-year-old boy. I remember very well that funny, orange lollipop from my mom. Suddenly a door opens. Strange, because I didn’t notice it there before. I can feel the smell of orchids getting stronger with every step I make. I hear a birthday song. Then I touch the door knob …