"You have six months to live. I'm sorry." I remember those words clearly. I remember them because I knew I should have been devastated but I was not. I was not even upset. That was not right. That was not the right way to feel. We all get upset when we know we will die. That is the expected emotion. But I was not even surprised. Not because cancer is increasing or another regurgitated scientific buzzword reason that played around my head like the artificial melody of an annoying top forty hit; but because I knew.
I knew I will be dying. In fact we all do. We are born with that instinct of survival. Everything we do in our lives is to prevent death or at least prolong it because death is the only definite thing. It is God's Gift. He slipped it in the party bag as we left that fantastic party in paradise. That crazy party where the apples were spiked (probably why we do not remember it). I sat there, facing the consultant, with an unmoved, unmovable expression - a half-smile, a knowing smile. Do not mistake this for shock. I have been in shock before and that was not like this. I froze only to turn inside my head for a moment and look at a few memories of my long enough life.
"Why are you not afraid? Why don't you say something?" My wife was in tears. She stared at me in disbelief at my serenity. I continued to hold my unmoved stare myself. I stared through the window. It was a pleasant day. One of those warm but breezy days. The sun illuminated the apple tree I was staring at and the apples sparkled white. Summer's Christmas tree. I thought of God's Gift.
Why are people afraid? Why do we have to say anything? I can not see, not even now, why we ask these questions in the face of death. It is unchangeable, it is a perpetual truth - the only truth. I count the days now, from my bed. I can not move too well and the morphene only allows me a few hours of consciousness every day. I count the days in shopping. How many teabags will I need? Shall I bother getting the hundred pack? Or shall I bother about saving the money? I am waiting. Waiting and counting. We all are but we do not know it. You have a little longer than me.
Copyright © 2008 Rob Richardson. All Rights Reserved.