I wrote a story about dying -- and also about living through the dying. It was an emotional story to write and, from what some of you told me, to read. I basically wrote it -- as I do a good deal of what I write -- stone cold. Meaning it's not something I've lived through but only imagined living through. How close I come to someone's reality is anyone's guess.

I have lived through the death of my father (lung cancer -- don't get me started on the pure evilness of cigarettes) when I was 22 and the deaths of both of my in-laws -- but I've never lived through the death of my sweetheart. It's something I'll probably have to do one day -- or he will. But one really can't live thinking about what might happen -- only what is happening. It's one thing to plan for the inevitable, quite another to experience it.

Anyway, I'm waxing a bit morose because of witnessing the slow decline of my hubby's uncle (which I've written about it in Blessings and Burdens). I'll only say here that this is a couple who do not have children but who, in their 80s, are now struggling as he reaches the end of life because they have no really close relatives (physically or emotionally) who are willing (or able) to step in and "take charge". They are reaching out to two nephews (hubby and his brother) who they never paid much attention to during all of these years (to be fair, there was little reaching out from the other side either -- my hubby and his brother were never around them very much growing up and it's difficult, if not impossible, to switch on "feelings" for someone you don't really know very well, even if they are related). Anyway, the traveling to and from Jacksonville has caused some tension in my house but that's another story for another day. And it may well end up being in a story one day -- what is fiction, after all, but life revamped and retold?

It's sad watching two people having to give each other up. He is ready to go -- although he's not in pain -- as of now -- he's not really living -- he can't do anything on his own now, not even get out of bed. She doesn't want him to go -- of course she doesn't -- she loves him. I wonder what they talk about when no one's there. It could be everything. It could be nothing. Are they saying goodbye, every day, in small ways? Or are they waiting for the very end to say all of those things people always wish they'd said before it's too late?

She is doing the best she can to live.

He is doing the best he can to die.

In the end, we all have to do both. We can only hope to achieve both with as much grace and dignity as possible.




Edited 2 times by MLS859 Jul 20 08 8:03 AM.