• It’s empowering how in our young age, experience with that of which we are afraid can liberate us for all our life. For some, that crippling fear may be towering heights; for others, it may be the Boogieman or other terrifying monster, ready to snack on you in your sleep. Until that pivotal moment of liberation, our minds are constantly racked in paranoid anxiety of our greatest weakness of fear. Some go their entire lives without being blessed by the chance to be rid of that weakness, living in constant turmoil. But I was given that chance. Since that fateful day, I have not had to live at the mercy of what I once feared: death.

    It all started nearly three years ago, shortly after my thirteenth birthday. That moment in time was the epitome of my youth. It was May, and spring had graced us with her beautiful presence. Everything seemed like it was taken out of some Romantic-era poetry: the birds were singing, the skies were smiling, and the trees were calm and sentient in their dreamy waves. All the sceneries reflected the blithe perspectives and joyful bliss of adolescence. I myself was overjoyed to finally be a young teenager, and in celebration of that, my mother was willing to take both a friend and myself to the drive-in theater to see the new Star Wars movie, just nine days after my birthday. The friend? Of course, Jason. I had met him at the beginning of middle school, and was my best friend. He was a year older than me, and a grade ahead. I had always admired him, no despite his over-enthusiasm or tendency for recklessness, but in celebration of everything he represented: a friendly laugh, a warming smile, and a heart of gold.

    The day was Saturday, May 21, 2005. It was the day I had waited for too long. Jason walked over to my house so we could get ready for the special night. He came in the afternoon so we’d have plenty of time, and even brought his own money to pay in. As he walked into my front door, he asked in a singsong voice: “So, Kyle, since we’ve got a few hours before we leave, what do you want to do?” I jumped up from my couch, approached him, and said straight-faced as could be: “Tootsie-soda.” He understood. You may ask what a tootsie-soda is. Well, Jason and I, in our ever-brilliant alchemical genius, concocted a drink using all the creamy sweetness of chocolate milk and all the fizzy tang of cherry-flavored Faygo soda into what we called “tootsie-soda.” I cried out: “Get the ingredients!!!” We stormed the refrigerator and hurriedly began mixing up our favorite drink. After having our fill of the ingenious draught, my mother came out of her bedroom with a grin on her face. “You boys better not fill up on that stuff. We’re gonna be stuffing our faces with candy soon enough at the theater.” We sighed. After putting away our mess, we went down into my room and started jamming out to some music while we thought of what we could do until we had to leave. Something about the metal in the air gave me an idea. I looked at Jason and asked, “Hey JJ, since we’ve still got time, wanna head down to Borns’ market and pick up some candy for tonight? That drive-in food is too expensive, dude.” He frowned as he replied, “Yeah, but I walked to your house, so I don’t have a bike, and I really don’t feel like dragging my fat behind all the way to the corner.” I laughed and suggested he ride my bike, and I’d ride my little sister’s bike. He liked the idea. So, we turned off the music and asked mom’s permission, and before she could get the word “Sure” out of her mouth, we were gone. We hopped on our respective bikes and started peddling as fast as we could to the corner store. I stayed on the right side of the road, he stayed on the left. “Man, I can’t wait to see the movie tonight!” I yelled across the road to Jason. He yelled back, “Yeah! Tonight’s gonna be awesome!” We both smiled like the biggest dorks in Fruitport as we sped up hurriedly. Full of exhilaration, adrenaline, and half my body weight in sugar, I let out a big “Woooooo!!!!” Soon, halfway down the road I saw a dead opossum on my side of the road. Man, I hope I don’t hit that thing! I looked out ahead for it, maintaining my balance on the bike, hoping I wouldn’t hit it, and then…

    Darkness. Cold, empty nothingness. My vision went dark. My senses went numb. The world disappeared. Where am I? What’s going on? Visions of my past life were the only things I could see filling the void of my mind. I saw my 6th birthday party, with all my loved ones singing and laughing. I saw my first attempts at riding a bike, crashing into the garage and my step dad saying “Good job Kyle, just keep at it!” I saw my first “serious” girlfriend, when we first met, and all the days we spent together, cuddling close in front of the glow of the TV. These scenes from my memories were calm and soothing, but they didn’t answer any of my questions. I could move, yet I couldn’t move. I could only perceive with sight unseeing. It was like I was in a theatre of my own dreams, watching all that ever was flash before my eyes. Those dreams would come and go, dancing in hollow reveries like a will-o-the-wisp, tantalizing senses I wasn’t sure I still had. All I knew was that I was in some unending darkness, breathless and lifeless, yet awake enough to know I wasn’t really real. Caught in this darkness, I could only ask with voiceless words, Where is Jason? No, to Hell with him, where is anything?! The only retort was the sound of unfamiliar voices speaking in once-familiar tongues. For a passing moment, a light shone through, and I could vaguely see my old body being wheeled through a hospital. I tried to move the hand, but no response. I tried to take a breath, but nothing. Gah! What in the Hell is going on?! I was angry, but I didn’t have the arms to lash out. I was sorrowful, but I didn’t have the eyes to cry. I demanded answers, but it didn’t matter if anyone gave them, for they would be spoken vainly, falling on deaf ears. I could only guess that my instincts were right: I was a ghost. A formless wraith, drifting through the desolate wasteland of eternity in empty solitude. So…this is Death? If so…I guess I’m ready to die…sure, it isn’t Heaven, but…it isn’t Hell. I guess I’ll just float forever…all alone in the darkness of Limbo…I had accepted my death, and it felt relieving, being able to put away all the vanity of mortality, finally being shuffled loose the mortal coil and released from its worries and cares. No rat-race for wealth, no struggles for power…just darkness. It was a fate I was comfortable with. Yes…I’m ready to die. Unending darkness…take me into your fold. Just as I was ready to surrender my soul to the vast infinity of nothingness, something happened…

    I woke up. Out of the void, a benevolent light unlike any I had seen before pulled me back into the beauty of reality, familiar and warm, assuring and beckoning. I was lying in a hospital bed, in an upper-body cast. My parents, my siblings, and loved ones from miles away had all come to see me in the month-long battle that felt like eternity. I’m back…I’m back!!! I looked around. Everybody was crying tears of joy. The walls were lined with posters and cards made with care by people who loved me, people who knew me, people who did neither. I could only cry myself, allowing everyone to explain everything to me, and I could only think Wow…to think I was somewhere other than here…I’m finally home.

    When I was finally fully coherent, the doctors told me I had been in a terrible car accident and for the past month been in a battle on the edges of life and death. I couldn’t help but think to myself, Hah. As if they had to tell me that. Evidently, as Jason and I were riding on that fateful day, a man in a white Ford F-150 whizzing by at 70 miles per hour swerved off the road and hit me, sending me flying through the air, right before my best friends eyes. I couldn’t begin to imagine the pain he went through seeing that…As the man drove away, Jason had no choice but to run back to my house, screaming at the top of his lungs, “Kyle got hit!!! Kyle got hit!!!” If it weren’t for him, I might not be alive today. He called constantly to check on me, though I never got to speak to him until the next school year. But the road to recovery had to come first, what with four broken bones, a ruptured spleen, punctured lung, and brain injuries. They told me I had an approximately .005% chance of even surviving let alone being functional. With that, I began therapy immediately.

    It took two years of physical and occupational therapy to fully recover. Two long years of physical and mental stress. To this day, people around me consider me a miracle, a hero. No…if you ask me, I’m not a hero, not a miracle…I’m just me. The only thing that made me special was that I was given the chance to overcome my fear. I’ve crossed that line of twilight that separates the realms of death and life, and made it back relatively unscathed.
    After facing that fear, given the power to love all living things and accept the unending beauty of the universe, I am not afraid to