I was crawling around the web for an explanation to luck, but seems like few attempted to look into a subject that can neither be explained rationally or scientifically. Not to mention, nobody took the subject as a subject in itself.
The best I could manage was an analysis on why people believe in luck and what they do to try change it. An interesting find was the things that people take in stride to receive or expel its effects. What I did find useful was a phrase - luck as a phenomena that people choose to use as an explanation to an occurence that overcedes responsibilities.
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Ten years ago a teenage boy got involved in a street-gang fight that had him end up in with 2 slash wounds and multiple open wounds. One of the slash wounds got a major artery vein that caused him to bleed profusely, and too quickly.
By the time he was sent to the hospital, the boy was in a daze and could hardly stay sober to answer any questions, let alone identify himself. Inside, he feared for the worse - would he survive and live to see the people he loved, do things he loved, think things he loved, and busk in the sun and laze as he loved?
The bed they put him on had a PVC sheet over it to keep it clean, so the blood started making for the sides, and dripped along as they pushed him into the operating room. There, somebody pressed hard on the bust vein while someone else turned on some machines and everyone else rushed around doing something that would help save his life at this very critical moment. As someone shone a torch into his eyes, he heard a voice for his name. He tried to say something, but then he thought, might as well go.
To begin with, dad left when he was young, and mom had a hard time putting food on the table and sending 3 kids to school. Gramps had passed on long time back, and grandma needs extensive care. Girlfriend got a new guy only the day before, and he looked set to flop college because of the multiple jobs he had to help with the household's income.
And on the operating table, he decided to leave things be. Why bother being stiched up and chalk up more bills and further burden anyone? And being a teenager, for all the love he showered his girl, now that she's gone, life was really not worth the living.
So he let things be. He didn't hope to die, neither did he hope to live.
Everyone else in the room were hurrying to stop the bleeding and stich him up and and give him blood and save his life. As he gradually slips into subconsciousness, the voices he heard began to fade. And then it was all dark, for the boy.
As it happened, some machine blipped and someone lamented that the boy was losing it. Then someone took some electronic thing and said, "clear!" and pressed it against his chest. Some machine blipped again and the boy came round a bit, and lost consciousness again. Then someone pressed his chest again. And this went on for a while.
As his mom received news a few miles away from the hospital, she got changed and instructed her other kids to stay in. She got into the patrol car and was on her way to the hospital. In her mind, neither she nor her kids will give up. Nobody will give up - she was determined to have him come round despite how bad she was told of the situation. She wanted to pray too, but to whom? Who would help her now? Other than the good officer driving her and the other good medical workers working on her son, who else could help her?
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I was tucking myself into bed last night when I realised how soft this particular toy given to me on my birthday was. I hugged and squeezed it to sleep, and just kinda remembered how nice its been to be hugged to sleep by mommy when I was a kid. I used to crawl under the sheets between mom and pops just so that I can snuggle in between, though I think I wet the bed a couple of times too.
Yesterday afternoon was kinda cool too. i stood by the kitchen window and just looked out - saw this really sunny day scene where trees cast strong shadows on the ground. There were constant breezes that blew through the outside, and shook the leaves left and right. And then I remembered spending days in Grandma's house, looking out the kitchen windows in the afternoons, watching the plants and trees in the garden swaying in the winds, and casting stong shadows.
Oh, grandma was a huge coffee fan, so day start till end there would be this aroma hanging round the house. And that made the sunny afternoons even more, remembered. And there used to be this huge open space behind the house where tall grass just grew wild, and the slight heat from the afternoon sun and the coolness of the breeze and the aroma of the coffee and the sounds of the rustling grass are...tender.
I hope grandma is watching me now. Cos I'm in so much pain.
But, who would help?
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So suddenly, Foreigner's "I Wanna Know What Love Is" comes to mind.
Outside the operating room was the officer who helped send the boy to the hospital. As he gathered all the boy's articles into a little bag, someone at the counter asked if he was okay and if he needed a drink. The officer paused for a minute before thanking for the kind offer, and handed the bag over to her for safekeep, and made for the exit. He saw the boy being slashed, and could not give chase because the boy was hurt bad.
On the way out, the thought of the boy struggling on the operating table flooded his mind, and he stopped, then turned back to hang around for a while.
In the operating room, the boy was struggling. Not fighting to live, nor trying to give up. Although everyone else in the room wanted to do their best to fix him, he just stayed blank in the head. Minutes ticked and he began to lose his feelings, of his legs, hands, neck... even his head, or eyes, or mouth, and the thoughts of mom, sis and baby brother. The rest knew it, and half an hour into the operation, they knew he wasn't gonna pull thru.
The boy's mom arrived just as the first staff walked out of the operating room to get some stuff, and explained that they were trying their best to do their bits to save the boy to her. The mom held firm and thanked that person, and went to the bench just outside to wait for news. The officer who brought the boy in introduced himself, and offered comfort. She held firm, and offered a grateful smile. And they both waited. Much like the boy, he waited to find out if it's earth, heaven, or hell.
As time wore on, more staff got in and out of the room, sometimes with small equipment, sometimes empty-handed, sometimes stopping to give instructions or update the mom, but nobody seemed to want to give up. The mom held on. The officer looked on and felt stronger by the minute, offering comfort and encouragement as someone got in or out of the doors.
Then the strangest thing happened - someone with a slightly blood-stained shirt and jeans and sneakers approached the mom. He introduced himself, and said he should have been the one in there, but when the attack occurred, he ducked behind the boy, and got the boy in harm's way instead. As police arrived and the attackers ran, he ran too, but saw the boy eventually put in the hospital's ambulance. He walked to the hospital to see if the boy was okay, and figured she was mom. And he said sorry.
The officer stood up, was about to pull out his cuffs, but decided not to, for he admired this chap's courage. But he eventually told the chap that he would be needed for investigation. The mom looked at him, and said nothing. Then she held out to his hand, and sat him down beside her. She said if he was there to wait, then they shall wait together.
And that made the chap cry.
And the mom's sister arrived with her husband after getting the news from the other kids. Everyone waited for news. But as time wore on, their confidence and optimism dwindled. But the mom held on, refusing to think of the worse.
Then somebody came out of the operating room and told the mom that she should get in and see her son one last time. She got up, forcing back tears, and walked in bravely to hold her son's hands. By then, someone else had removed the mask they had on the boy for the last couple of hours, and the mom leaned forward and said hi. The boy forced his eyes opened, tears flowed out, and he said sorry. The mom held firm, squeezed his hands and said it wasn't his fault. The boy then said that he loved her, and that everything happens for a reason. And in his dying breadth, said he loved mom very much, and sis, and baby brother.
As the boy breathed his last, the mom felt his hold soften, and then go cold.
I'm sorry that the boy couldn't survive. I'm sorry too. For it would have been nice if he did. Wouldn't it.
Some welfare organisations helped with the hospital bills and the simple funeral. The mom held firm, and moved on with her remaining children. She held firm because they needed her.
And the funeral was simple, but many people showed up. Those who knew the boy and ever talked to the boy had all praises and no ill-feelings toward him. And the family was glad that the boy had been good. They all promised to be just as good.
The police officer who sent the boy to the hospital brought the chap in. By then, he was remorseful, and decided to help with the investigation. He remembered the boy clearly for the boy was the one who gave that last coin he had in his pocket so that the chap could make a phone call a long time ago, to the gangster leader to look for a job as a drug peddler, which made him very rich. And the chap's hunger for success saw him rise in ranks in the drug ring, and became someone important. But because he was too good, everyone else were jealous and wanted him dead. So that fateful night, he was hunted like an animal, and got the boy killed by accident.
So the chap helped with the investigations, and over 2 years, successfully helped the city police to destroy the drug trade that was so rampant in the city. And all along, he would visit the family, gave them some money, and helped with the house repairs, the gardens, and even the Christmas dinners. And all these times, he knew he might be killed by people trying to stop him from telling, anytime. But he was never hurt, though he came close.
And the boy's sister finished high school and then college, went to university and got a part time job as a lawyer's assistant with a pretty good pay. And the boy's baby brother got into a good college doing his favourite subjects. And both of them did so in a drug-free city that stayed so ever since. Even ten years after.
The chap stayed with the family ever since, providing assistance whenever he could. Mom held firm, and she finally knew who would help.
And she knew that everything happens for a reason.
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