What would you do during your last seven days on this Earth?

Thinking on this question makes me realize anew that I’m really an extraordinarily lucky person. I have a vague bucket list of things I’d like to experience one day, but nothing of the sort where I’d pull out my life savings to do if I knew I was only going to live seven more days.¬†

So…

I think I’d write out my will first and update all of my beneficiary information. At this point in time, it’s likely to all go to charity. Specifically, probably to Doctors Without Borders. I’d set up notifications that would post to my online social media accounts informing people as to my death that would post the day after my supposed death day. Day after so I would have the chance to cancel them if a miracle happened.

I’d hire someone to clean the house and car, thoroughly. No sense in making grieving people clean up after your mess. Then I’d figure out where I wanted to die and pull out enough money from my retirement accounts and savings to cover it. Right now I think I’d want to find a quiet cottage somewhere in Scotland by the sea.

I’d have one last dinner party with all my friends and then I’d fly back to Taiwan to see my family.

Then I’d spend the rest of my days quietly doing whatever the fuck I wanted, alone. I’m thinking I’d need to find a pretty town by the sea. A place with coffee shops and restaurants with great food. Small boutiques to duck into and explore.

The interesting thing for me, thinking about this, is that right now I think I would like to die alone. I wouldn’t want to tell anyone that this was happening because I wouldn’t want to deal with their grief and their questions. At the point where I’m dying, then I’m going to make it all about me and part of that is I would want to be in a position where I don’t have to take care of anyone else and their feelings.

The only friend I have currently who I’d consider taking with me and letting in on the secret is Thene. I’m thinking that she’d be good for long ¬†rambling walks, quiet meals at the local restaurants and being sane and sanguine about what’s coming next.

I probably won’t, just to spare her. I’m not sure that I’d be thrilled to be recruited to be someone’s companion for their last days before death and have to deal with the after details. Perhaps I’d walk into a hospital, day of, and let those who know how to cope with deaths of a stranger deal with it.

I’d write long letters to everyone I thought I would be leaving behind, in the hopes that I could alleviate their grief. I might or might not spend some of my time writing, since I don’t know how much I’d care if I only have seven days to live.

Part of me realizes that this sort of plan might sound very selfish. I’m essentially deciding that probably no one will have a chance to say a final goodbye and I’d be withholding information that I’d probably rail at someone else for keeping from me.

But you know what?

If I’m dying, then I don’t give a fuck.

You never know what’s going to happen in this life. I could tell you that I have seven days to live and the next day get the terrible news that my boyfriend was killed instantly in a metro accident. Nothing is certain.

I can only live each day to the extent where I will not regret having spent a day on what I spent it on.

I can only be as good a friend as I know to be and always say farewell to my friends and family with love and my best wishes.

If I’ve done that, if I manage that — then I don’t think it matters if there’s a final goodbye or not.

Besides, I don’t truly believe that it’s a final goodbye.

I believe in reincarnation. I believe that souls who are drawn to each other will be drawn to each other through time and space. There will always be another meeting, should you and I wish it. There will always be more chances for love.

 

 

 

 

 

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