Did the echo. Laid there on my side with my saggy boob flat on the bed, facing a stranger. Had a somewhat spiritual moment staring at my heart, constantly beating, constantly flowing blood through carefully designed veins and arteries, all built with the most love and care of anything that exists.
I spoke with my muslim mentor the morning of and I cried and said, “I’m scared.” And he said, “Allah knows best.” Maybe this is meant to spook you a little bit into getting closer to Allah. Well, my friends, if that was the purpose, it has worked.
As I was staring into the soul of myself, laying face-to-face with my beating heart, tears started forming in my eyes, and I thought about death (as I often do). This place is only temporary. I left the hospital and as I was walking down the hall, I looked at an old lady lying on her back in a hospital bed with what looked like 10,000 tubes attached to her in all different places. Wires and tubes and IVs and lots of bleeping buttons and switches and her face was sallow and she looked like my paternal grandmother, who chose hospice before she withered away in front of us and died.
We will all die, death is the great equalizer, blah blah blah.
But picture yourself in the grave, looking up above as the casket closes over top of you, as you listen to the dirt being thrown from up above onto you, gravediggers casually talking about the weather as they pile shovelfuls of dirt on top of you. You won’t come back out. You are there till Allah comes for you.
All of this will pass in what will seem like the blink of an eye. Your whole life will flash before you can blink and then it will be gone. Over. No more second chances.
Or maybe this IS my second chance.