The bell was for me. It was a declaration that I was here. Alive. Who knew what was going on inside of me, but today, I lived.
I would need to check the photos to remember the words on the plaque, but they were of hope and I remember thinking here I am ringing the bell at the place I have only been to once. My last treatment when all the previous ones had been locked in my hospital bed. Not with these nurses, who still cheered, but with the ones who I knew day in and day out. I had to see them again. They were part of those who had gotten me here.
Ringing a bell.
Who knew its music could bring tears?
Who knew the hope it carried?
Who knew the relief…not just mine?
I rang the bell for me…for those before me who lived and did not. I range the bell for those coming after me.
A bell.
Still the simplest of messages; still stronger than words.