(A small tribute to Barricade Day. I hope you like it)

They say before you die, your life flashes before your eyes.

But they are wrong.

It's not your life that passes before you. You don't see your regrets nor do you see your achievements. You only see one moment. One memory.

One that is worth watching and rises above all others in its meaning to you.

At least… That is how it was for me when those eight bullets pierced my body. When the rough hand in mine tightened before it went slack but never slipped out of my hold. When I saw the dead bodies of my dearest friends, those closest to me, a final time.

I did not see my childhood, I did not see my parents. Not a glimpse of revolutions, victories or defeats. There was no bright white light, no angel, no glory. There was just a memory. A memory of quite some time ago. When our group had only just started to form.

I never cared much for birthdays. I never really saw the point of celebrating the fact that you've aged a year. In my mind, there were more important things that needed attention. More pressing matters. Ever since I was old enough to make decisions of my own, I decided not to celebrate my birthday. My parents did not really care. They were usually otherwise occupied. My friends did care. They always offered me a party or a quiet get together. And I always turned them down.

But then came the year that I turned twenty one. A milestone, some might say.

That year, none of my friends asked me for a party. None reminded me of the fact that it was almost my birthday. No subtle asks if there was anything I desired for a present. There was no talk about it. No wild ideas. No quiet encouragements that it was okay to have fun once in a while. To enjoy that moment where it was all about you.

There was nothing. My friends did not remind me and so I forgot.

You can imagine the surprise when I walked into the backroom of the Musain that evening, finding the whole space packed with decorations, food and wine. As if that alone wasn't shocking enough, my friends jumped up out of nowhere to give me the fright of my life. I have been told that I turned as white as a sheet. And I can remember how my heart tried its best to beat its way out of my chest. I believe my reaction scared my friends as well.

I remember Combeferre rushing towards me, pushing me into a chair. If I concentrate, I can still feel his lips brush my forehead in a chaste and reassuring kiss. I can still feel his hand on my shoulder.

"Happy birthday," he whispered in my ear.

Happy birthday. It was the moment I remembered what day it was. What age I turned. It was the moment that I smiled. That I laughed. That my eyes filled with unshed tears. It was the moment that I cared.

That evening was filled with embraces and kisses. There were presents and happy wishes. There were games and light chatter. We joked and we laughed and we lived in the moment. Not in the future and not in the past. That evening we did not only celebrate my birthday. We celebrated life.

We celebrated living.

The night ended with all of us breaking into the park. We were sprawled out on the grass and watched the sky. In silence. Each of us lost in their own minds. I remembered that I liked the night. I liked the dark. Without the dark, we'd never see stars. And to me, the stars have always resembled hope. Stars show me that even the darkest black can be broken by light. I'd like to be a star. I'd like to be the hope that shines through the darkness. I'd like to be remembered that way. When we fail.

That night was the first time I enjoyed my birthday. It was the first time I celebrated it. It was the first time I allowed my friends to coddle me.

It was also the only time. And it made me treasure the moment all the more.

My friends understood my wishes and my wants. They knew I enjoyed the evening, but they also knew I would not want such a thing again. The next year they congratulated me. There was no party. No presents. No cake.

Each year after I turned 21, on my birthday, I dreamed about my friends, my family, those closest and dearest to me. I dreamed about the stars.

People say when you die, you see your life flash before you.

People are wrong.

You do not see your life. You do not see your regrets nor do you see your achievements. You see one moment. Just the one. You see that one moment you hold dear. That moment that brightens and warms your heart.

I see it as I blow out my final breath. The beginning of a smile tugs at my lips.

You see one moment.

But it lasts an eternity.

(It's a short one, but I hope you'll like it. Reviews are always appreciated)