SECOND WRITING PRIZE WINNER –
WINTER 2021-2022
is ELIZA LANG
of Westport, Connecticut – USA
UNTITLED
By Eliza Lang
When I met Charles, I was completely unequipped to be the last person he connected with before he passed away. In the flickering light of a nearby streetlight, I saw him doubled over in pain, completely alone. He was infamous for his extensive record of public intoxication, which had driven his family away from him, and verbal and physical aggression toward first responders at the ambulance service where I was training. En route to the scene, however, my preceptor told me that Charles had recently been diagnosed with advanced throat cancer and had turned away from his destructive habits.
My partner and I helped him onto the stretcher in the ambulance, and it became obvious that his condition had severely deteriorated. He would spend his final moments in my ambulance. His gaze remained fixed downward as my partner struggled to converse with him in broken Spanish. Hoping to bring him comfort in the final minutes of his life, I began to talk with Charles in Spanish also. Charles lifted his eyes, locking with mine as tears streamed down his profoundly sorrowful face.
I still don’t know what brought such misery into Charles’s eyes that night–the knowledge that his life was ending, fear of suffering in the afterlife, or regret of his prior decisions. Still, this call left a tragic and inescapable impression on me.
I now realize that what I saw in Charles’s eyes was years of harmful decisions that culminated in a lonely death. Absorbing this, I felt a pressure to take a hard look at my own relationships, to consider the types of decisions that I wanted to make, and the consequences they might have.
Not long after Charles’s passing, my older sister moved out due to a very poor relationship with my parents. As young children, my sister and I maintained a close and reliable relationship. As we outgrew our matching princess costumes, she grew into my closest companion and most trusted confidante. The fallout over her decision to leave home, however, created both a physical and emotional distance in our relationship, and my love for her was strained by anger about the negative changes in my family life she seemed to have precipitated. I was furious she had left me alone to grapple with my parents’ disappointment, impossibly high standards, and anger. Subsequently, our innate bond and shared time were abruptly curbed.
My relationship with my sister suddenly required a great deal of effort to maintain. For months, I struggled to find the motivation to mend our dying connection. I realized I was at a crossroads, similar to when Charles decided that it wasn’t worth fighting for his relationship with his family and friends. These were the decisions that landed him in my ambulance with only me to sit with him in his last moments.
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Remembering Charles’s lonely death, I understood that I was faced with a choice that would significantly affect my future and the people who fill it. I did not want to make decisions that would allow important people in my life to drift away. Consequently, I felt an extra sense of urgency to bolster my connections with my sister and those around me as the beginning of college neared.
The relationships I hold with my sister, parents, and friends are not merely the backdrop to my story. These relationships bring color to my life’s tapestry. They are the fabric of my identity, the key to my happiness, and the value of my life.
Charles’s death has opened my eyes to lessons that will guide me for years. But, I must do more than understand the need for meaningful connections. I must devote myself to my relationships, to being thoughtful and intentional in my decisions about them, to accomplish the goal that Charles has shown me is so vital.
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About the author:
I am a high school senior from Connecticut with a passion for medicine.
