Friday, July 15, 2011

Six Weeks

Today's prompt for the 30 Day Blogging challenge: If you had six weeks to live, what would do?

I've always thought knowing when you're going to die is the cruelest form of torture.  If I knew I only had six weeks to live, they would be filled with pain and a longing for what could not be.

The first thing I would do is run home and cling to my hubby.  I can't imagine being without him and to know I only had six more weeks with him would absolutely tear me up inside.  Then I'd cling to my kids for the same reason - intense love and a refusal to accept that I don't have a seeming eternity with them.

Then I'd get mad.  Oh sure, I'd love to sit here and say that I could take this with aplomb and grace.  But that just wouldn't be the truth. I'd rage and scream against all the gods, fates, whatever sent this my way.  I have no idea how long the anger would last.  I'd like to say I could get past it and be one of those patient, soul-filled people that accepts God's plan, but I doubt it.

I'd go see my mom and sisters.  I'd go for a good long visit with them and just cling to them too.

I would wish for the resources to take a trip to Europe.  It's honestly about the only thing left on my bucket list.  I guess that's a pretty good place to be in, having only one thing left on your bucket list.

I'd write.  Oh God would I write.  There are so many stories in me clawing to get out.  When I wasn't clinging to the ones I love, I'd write.  I'd have to.  But I know what I turn out would be dark and depressing.  I always write what I'm feeling at the moment.

I would NOT sleep.  I would find somewhere to buy some speed (hey, what? I'm going to get addicted?  Well, the "cure" is coming, right?).  I'd pop as much as I could get away with without overdosing so I wouldn't waste a minute of the remaining time in sleep.

I would not be able to stop myself from listening to the clock.  Even though we have no actual ticking clocks in the house, if I only had six weeks to live they would all start madly tick-tocking and I would be driven as crazy by the sound as ol' Cap'n Hook was.

I hope I never know how much time I have left.  I can handle the idea of dying.  At least in the abstract.  But to know it's coming and know how long I have, that would be a cruel knowledge.  I would hope not to waste the time I have left wallowing in self-pity, but I know me better than that.  If I knew I only had six weeks to live, my heart would die immediately and I'd be a dead man walking, desperately clinging to the things I love with a terrified abandonment of all semblance of sanity.

Copyright © 2011 Denise Duggan

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