Because He Was With Me (If He Had Been With Me)

The paramedics said his chances were slim. They said to prepare myself. I couldn't, I wouldn't.

I stayed by his side at the hospital, along with Aunt Angelina. Our hands gripped eachothers for comfort. Only one thing would give me comfort right now. And it seemed almost impossible.
On his 18th day in the hospital, I was asleep in an armchair near his bed. Aunt Angelina had gone home by then. I had gotten countless messages to come home myself, to clean my room, to go out with people but the only person I wanted to see was lying motionless beside me.
I would often read, but now, I was just watching him, begging for any signs of movement. There was a beeping on the heart rate monitor. It was dropping lower and lower. I alerted the nurses. They came in and started checking him, using all kinds of devices I had no knowledge of. Then he was flatlining. I was still with shock. I could not move, speak or even breathe. I would not live until he was. I turned and dropped to the ground. I would not see this. I could not watch.

"Au-tumn" My name was separated, the two syllables, as he choked it out. I was at his side. The nurses were shouting at me to step back, to give him time but we did not have that. This experience had taught me that. Against all odds, his heart, still for what seemed like an eternity, found it's rhythm one more. The doctors called it a miracle, the fact that life could be coaxed back like that from the void. After an asystole or flatline, there is a two percent survival rate. He is part of that two percent. Those who refuse to let go.

"Finny." I couldn't laugh, I couldn't even smile, even though my happiness could shatter through every instrument in this hospital. I could only say the thing that came so naturally to me, his name.