I don't know how long I've been here, my eyes fixed on the stars.I've always dreamed of becoming an astronaut, traveling through space, discovering unknown worlds. Who hasn't dreamed of meeting other species, living extraordinary adventures?But that dream never had the chance to come true.I passed away because of a rare disease, cystic fibrosis, which stole my breath and made my body weak. From my mother, I had inherited fragility; from birth, my whole life had been spent in hospitals.
Still, despite the illness, I was lucky enough to meet amazing people.The nurses and doctors who cared for me truly loved me. Thanks to them, I got to live almost like a normal kid. I remember my birthdays, especially my fifteenth.That day, everyone in the hospital, along with my parents, had chipped in to buy me a cell phone.I remember it like it was yesterday.I cried with joy, so happy to finally have something that made me feel connected to the outside world. With that phone, I could chat, watch videos, and most of all, discover new stories.
I fell in love with games and books full of adventures tales of heroes, of distant lands, of impossible quests. They helped me escape my small, sterile room and travel far beyond my hospital walls.At night, I'd dream of vast forests, snowy villages, and melodies that spoke of hope and courage.Worlds where pain had no place.Worlds where, even after hardship, you could still believe in love, in new beginnings.
That day, outside my window, I saw the first snowflakes fall.They danced gently in the wind, like little stars descending from the sky just for me.Their slow, peaceful movement felt like a farewell, a soft invitation to my next journey.
But that joy didn't last. The inevitable moment came the day when I reached the end of my strength.Barely awake, I felt the end approaching. I wanted to say something, but the words stayed trapped in my throat.
In front of me, my mother cried. My father gripped my hand tightly, trying and failing to hold back his own tears. The nurses and doctors, my second family, stood around me, devastated.
Through her sobs, my mother whispered, "Forgive me, sweetheart."Her voice broke on every word.My father leaned closer, placing his trembling hand on my shoulder."Son... even if you leave us... know that we love you more than anything."
Tears streamed down his face, despite all his efforts to stay strong.Around them, the nurses cried too. After all these years, they had watched me grow up. To them, I wasn't just a patient; I was family.
Summoning the last of my strength, I whispered,"Thank you... because of you, I had a big family."My own tears fell, but I kept smiling, like one of the heroes I had admired so much.
The world around me blurred; the faces faded into a soft haze.But beyond the fog, I thought I could see lights — small, dancing stars, welcoming me forward.Just before slipping away completely, a warmth ran through my hands.Something new, something gentle, wrapped around me.
The beep... beep... beep of the machine slowed, faded, and then disappeared into perfect silence.And in that endless calm, a soft light surrounded me.A light like the flame of a candle, guiding me forward.Maybe, finally, I was beginning the journey I'd always dreamed of.
Into a new world, where no illness could ever reach me.