I look up at the wall clock and notice it’s 18:03pm.
I can’t remember if anyone of us has eaten today.

Mom & Dad have practically been living in this room for 9 months.
I visit when I can, but today I had to rush here from college where I am studying chemical engineering.

It’s a 3-hour drive, but I don’t recall a single thing about the ride.
The doctor’s voice still rings in my ears.
I brush it off because I cannot bear the anguish of her words.

Becky looks so peaceful in her hospital bed.
Her blonde curls fall around her face giving her an almost cherub like look.
It sends shivers down my spine.

18:13pm

I remember the last time I visited. Becks was having a good day and she was playing make-believe with her stuffed animals.

We were discussing all her favourite things.
Snowy the cat. Peter and Josh her two best friends. Mommy. Daddy. Me. And pizza.

I asked her if she missed eating pizza and she told me no, because she can remember the taste whenever she feels like it.

18.23pm

I feel a tremendous sense of despair thinking about all the things she is going to miss out on.

A few weeks ago, she instructed me to chin up and smile because she remembered my prom night and I was crying because my stupid necklace broke.

She assured me that if crying over something so silly comes with the prospect of a dance, she would rather skip all that and dance in her hospital gown right then and there.

18:33pm

I have never seen my parents look so scared and fragile.
I once asked Becky if she was scared to die. She looked me straight in the eyes and laughed.

“Why would I be scared of dying tomorrow if I am alive today? Today is puppet day in our ward! I love puppet day!”

And that was the end of that discussion.

18:43pm

My mind flashes back to just before she was diagnosed.

I had just broken up with a boyfriend and was acting like it was the end of the world.

Becks asked me why I was so upset about a boy who hurt my feelings.
Shouldn’t I be happy without him?

Being the teenager that I was, I told her to shut up because she doesn’t know anything about life anyway!

She looked me right in the eyes and told me that she is breathing and moving, and she feels a lot of feelings, so she guesses she must know at least something about being alive.

18:53pm

When Becks was just admitted to the hospital, we were all playing a board game in her room when suddenly out of nowhere she shrieked.
It wasn’t a shriek of terror, more a like a squeal of joy.

“There’s a butterfly on the window! Look! Look!”

What stayed with me about that moment was that not one of us adults even noticed this beautiful creature right under our noses.

Becky has always been good at noticing the beauty around her.

19:03pm

We are gathered around her, holding her tired hands. Mom is praying and Dad glares at her tiny face as if he wants to stare her out if her coma.
The doctors scurry around us, but I don’t even notice.
The only thing I am hearing is her breath sounding faint and uneasy.

Then.

Silence…

My mind knows what just happened, but my heart cannot accept it yet.

I turn my face towards the window.
There is a butterfly nesting its wings on the glass.

Becks, you were right all along.

Life is beautiful.