hospital death

When My Heart Broke, My Father Used Google to Save Me

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After I came home from the hospital, my mother and father took turns sitting on my bed every night to make sure I was still breathing.

My mother would rest her head on my chest and say a prayer. My father would whisper, “I love you,” and touch my cheek. I noticed it all.

They thought I was asleep as they did this, but I was awake, unable to sleep. I hadn’t been able to sleep well for months but didn’t want to take drugs to help with that because I enjoy staying awake in the darkness, my mind running wild, even if my mother tells me not to think so much.

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