The first thing that pulled me back was a steady, rhythmic beeping. It cut through the darkness as if something were calling me up from far below.
My body felt heavy, as if it didn’t belong to me anymore. I tried to move, but nothing responded. My eyelids felt sealed shut, and I couldn’t move or speak. But I was awake and aware.
It cut through the darkness.
Then something small, warm, and shaky slipped into my hand.
“Mom… if you can hear me… don’t open your eyes.”
It was Bruce, my eight-year-old son.