Miracles Never Come Late

Dear Stranger,
By the time you read this, I'll probably already be gone. But if you can spare a moment, would you let me share a story no one else knows? I was diagnosed with a serious illness, one that stole the simple, everyday life I used to take for granted. I fought, I screamed, but no matter what I did, I couldn't change the reality — or my weak, lingering attachment to it.
From then on, my world shrank to the size of a hospital bed, and all that was left was a life slowly ticking away into emptiness... until she appeared and changed everything.

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I'll never forget that day — the day fate's invisible thread led me to an angel. She was a nurse at the hospital, and every afternoon, she would sing to the sick children on the patch of grass beneath my window. I had never heard a voice so moving.
In those gray, lifeless days, it was music that reminded us of the passion we once had for living. Without realizing it, I was deeply touched by her, and I began to accept the harsh gift that fate had handed me. Perhaps my life, though fleeting, could be as beautiful as those short, fragile songs.
Sometimes, all it takes is a single spark to reignite the courage to keep going. Quietly, I made a promise to myself: before the true end arrives, I will hold on — I will keep going.

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And so, I began doing small things to help her. Though, to call it "helping" might be too generous — it was really just my selfish way of trying to do something, anything, for her.
There were moments I wavered, tempted to confess my feelings to her. But I always held back. This selfish heart of mine had already taken enough — it would be wrong to go further, to burden her with the love of someone whose days were numbered. That would only leave her lonelier in the end.
And yet, death is still so terrifying. I tried to escape its shadow by losing myself in her songs, but it was always there, waiting. I know my time is running out. Still,I don't want to disappear without a trace. That's why I'm writing this, like King Midas's barber whispering his secret into the hollow of a tree.
Stranger, thank you for listening this far. This is my final secret, one I've shared with the universe — and now, with you. I hope that, somewhere among the distant stars, I can keep thinking of her.

Sincerely,
A Foolish Piece of Wood

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