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