OK. I admit it. I’m scared.
I’ve never died before. I don’t know what to expect.
Will it hurt, I wonder? Will I die in my sleep? Will I die in mid-sentence as I am saying something important?
I always envisioned dying with a glass of wine in one hand and a chocolate bar in the other! What a way to go!
And how will I know when “ IT” is happening? Do I just go along with it or do I fight it tooth and nail?
I could drive myself crazy with what to expect.
If I didn’t have such a strong conviction that there is something better to come I’d decide not to do this. Here I am, at the end of my life and having no control over how it will end.
That just doesn’t seem right. I lived seventy years. Doesn’t that count for something? Haven’t I learned a few things in seventy years?
So why don’t I have some say in how and when my death should occur?
And if there is a chance that I will come back, will my husband know when I sit next to him on the couch and slip my hand into his and tell him how important he is to me? Will he know?
And will my children know how much I love them when they are struggling with life and feel like giving up? Will they know when I tell them that they can do anything they set their minds to? Will they know how much I believe in them? Will they know?
And what about my grandchildren and great-grand children? Will they know when I whisper in their ears that they should live their own lives without any outside control from parents or loved ones? Will they know?
And will my friends know when they are out celebrating? Will they feel my presence when they pour a glass of wine and clink their glasses? Will they know I’m still here?
I have so many questions and so few answers.
So I will gather myself together and wait for my palliative care doctor to arrive for a visit. And no, these are the kind of questions she can’t answer, and I don’t expect her to. It’s good to see her though and to have a laugh or two about how things are going. Yes, we laugh, and I feel better. And I don’t feel so alone.
Perhaps that’s what I need — not to feel alone. She supports me, as do my family and friends and people who read this column. I still find it hard to believe that people read this, so thank you for your support!
