Proof of Heaven

have a living person, whom you spoke to and joked with in better days,
become a lifeless object on an operating table after you’ve struggled for
hours to keep the machine of their body working. I know what suffering
looks like, and the answerless grief on the faces of loved ones who have
lost someone they never dreamed they could lose. I know my biology,
and while I’m not a physicist, I’m no slouch at that, either. I know the
difference between fantasy and reality, and I know that the experience
I’m struggling to give you the vaguest, most completely unsatisfactory
picture of, was the single most real experience of my life.
In fact, the only competition for it in the reality department was what
came next.