As I lay there…
Hard breath in. Harder breath out. The morphine barely covers some of the pain.
Dying sucks.
I wonder for a split second if anything comes after, or whether it’s just blackness then nothing.
… but I don’t really mind it all. What a beautiful life I have lived.
I think of my parents whom I lost many years ago. I miss them. I don’t talk about them to my children much, maybe every now and then. But I miss them. Maybe I’ll get to see them again. I miss being their child.
My childhood could have easily been so empty and void, full of war and hardship. Yet, all seemed fine growing up in the humble home they made for us. I say “us” and my heart drops. I close my eyes and see our little family in Tyre.
I think of my siblings. They are with me in the same room. I beat myself up for dying too soon. They shouldn’t have to experience the pain of losing a sibling, yet here they are by my side.
I’ve known these 2 people my whole life. Without them, love is not so special. What other love is truly unconditional? I think about how much I’ve let them down and how much more time I could have spent with them. I tried. I really did after our parents passed away but it never felt like enough.
Their children bring me joy. At some point in my 20s, Their children made me “someone” when I didn’t feel like much. They gave me the push to try and inspire so maybe one day they can chase their own dreams. Their children saved my life from my own “final” thoughts…at one point.
My wife sits there helpless. We’ve lived a good life. We saw the world. We argued sometimes but heck even the arguments were enjoyable. I’m glad I stuck out for her.
We loved each other. We loved our children. We loved our cats. Thoughts of her these days are quick and painful. I somehow feel ashamed. I think about how many times she’s bathed me in the last year, helped me eat when I was too weak, and pretended like everything was ok. That woman never stopped smiling in my face and to every person we know. Yet, her lips and cheeks tasted of salt anytime I mustered the strength to kiss them. She cried more than she admitted. She must be surely be tired. She hates that one joke I keep making: “Hey! At least you’ll finally get some action after I’m all set and done!” But, it lightens the mood every now and then. We might as well enjoy the time we have left, no?
My only child is mostly busy these days. They’re doing the whole life thing. A part of me wants to see them every single day but I totally get it. They visit often, but all I can think about is the void they will have, the same one I had when I lost my parents. Besides, it’s been a couple of years now. My death is not the main event, but a tiny chapter in a long sequel of suffering, a chapter I’ve frankly been looking forward to for some months now.
What a beautiful life I have lived.
I close my eyes again. I think about the breathless laughs, the suffocating hugs, the chilling moments of beauty, the thrill of meeting someone new, the smell of a new book, the crashing of the waves in Tyre, the mystical feelings in Bint Jbeil, the grit of Detroit, the hustle of San Francisco, the beautiful green hills on Mt Tam, the red rocks covered in snow, the wind dancing with the sails in Grenada, the thrill of a new album, the orange glaze of a setting sun, the first “I love you”, the first nephew, the first niece, the smell of my mother’s hair.
… There’s a lot. What a bea__________
*** Final diary entry. March 19 2054 ***
