I talked to a friend yesterday and she told me about the recent deaths in her lives and the pending, inevitable end of one good person who is loved and respected by many. She has stage four cancer.
I’ve been contemplating about death recently, mine to be specific. For weeks now, I thought that dying is not the worse thing that could happen to me now. If I were to talk to my mother about these thoughts, she would tell me to think about the many people who would want to be as healthy as I am now—to have a perfectly enabled body and mind.
So when my friend told me about Karen (not her real name) and how she’s been fighting for her life every day, only one thing came to my mind: I wish I could give Karen my days and health.
Another friend of mine lost a good friend to pancreatic cancer. Bill (not his real name) was a good, highly driven and humorous person. When he discovered that he had stage four pancreatic cancer, he opted for alternative medicine and sacrificed his body for the sake of looking for a new cure. I wish I could give Bill my life.
If it was up to me, I don’t want to die on a bed surrounded by white walls, waiting for the cold clutches of death to take me. I want to die protecting someone. That’s not a bad way to go. At least in my last moment, I can be useful. At least I can sacrifice my life for another.
This is not a cry for help. These are not suicidal thoughts. But death, right now, is not the worse thing that could happen to me. I don’t have the strength to commit suicide, but I’ve been praying for my life to end. If there was a way to give my life span to another person like Karen and Bill, I would gladly volunteer.
But there are things I wish I could do before I go.
I want to see the beautiful temples in Japan and practice my Nihongo. I want to have a beer in a pub in Ireland, see the castles in Scotland, visit the grave of J.R.R. Tolkien, see the northern lights in Iceland and southern lights in New Zealand.
I want to tell him that I love him and thank him for giving me a moment of hope and happiness.
I know that this is not something I should think. I’m trying my best to find a purpose and something to hold onto as I sink further and further down. But everything I hold crumbles through my fingers.
I tried fighting, but I keep on getting defeated. I wonder if I am still supposed to be here.