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The memories I share alone

In 1993, I traveled to Los Angeles to attend a meeting at 
UCLA Medical Center. While walking down the hall, in my brand new 
lab coat and a stethoscope around my neck, I heard a soft, 
delicate voice. My heart began to race. I felt a gentle hand on 
my shoulder and a chill down my spine. As I turned toward him I 
was perplexed. Staring into my eyes was the most beautiful man I 
have ever seen, Michael Jackson. Not knowing that I was barely a 
medical student, he began to ask me questions about his insomnia.  
I wasn't authorized to give him medical advice but I didn't want 
him to leave, so I listened. As he spoke I began to feel his 
pain. I wanted to help him but I didn't know that advising him to 
see a Neurologist would affect him for the rest of his life. I 
was afraid the conversation was over when he stood from his 
chair.  Unexpectedly, he asked me "do you want to see my 
Neverland  Ranch?" I restrained myself but accepted his offer.
    I spent most of my time avoiding his guests and hiding from 
the paparazzi, but the time I spent with Michael was the best 
time of my life. He was my best friend. The days went by too 
fast. I never wanted to leave. The last day I saw him smile, 
heard him laugh and held his hand was the most painful day of my 
life. When we began to say our goodbyes, a tear ran down my 
cheek. Michael took my hand and placed it on his heart as he 
whispered "I love you." He held me in his arms as I cried.
    As I arrived home, in Colorado, I began to feel empty inside.  
 He asked me to call him August first. Then he said "I want to 
hear you say you love me." He knew I loved him. Who wouldn't? I 
prayed for August and counted the days until they lost me, and on 
July 26, I lost him. That night, while driving home, life decided 
to end  mine. Unable to save me, the driver left me there, 
chocking on my own blood, and minutes away from dying. I suffered 
a closed head injury, a broken jaw, and fell into a coma. I guess 
burying my soul wasn't enough for him so he stole my wallet. Inside my wallet, was the only piece of Michael I had left, his 
phone number.  I was airlifted to St. Mary's Hospital to suffer 
for the remainder of my life.          
    Unfortunately, I awoke from the coma two months later. It 
took a couple of months to remember my family but I knew Michael 
at my first breathe. Even after months of rehab and years of 
relearning everything from birth, I'm still not the same person.  
I should have tried harder to find Michael but because of my 
shame, the vitality that I lived for is gone forever.  Now all I 
have are the memories. I pray that my anger, my frustration, my 
pain, and my guilt, will die the same way that Michael did, 
forever.  In my heart, I know that he will only sing to me, dance 
with me, laugh with me, and cry with me, in my dreams. I never 
wanted to hurt him. I just wanted to tell him that I love him.

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