If I was diagnosed with a terminal disease and given only a few months to live, I would let myself finally convey my love for the things I truly love. I would allow myself to prattle regarding all the subjects I love without the trepidation of judgement or abnormal stares. I would let myself eat every food I enjoy without feeling any uncertainty or the burning gazes around me. I would let myself speak up and communicate my true opinions through my own words, and I wouldn’t feel culpable as others scrutinized me. I would stop worrying about melding in with others, and I would let myself perceive the emotions that I truly feel. I would begin looking people in the eyes, and I would start smiling more. I want everyone to think of me as a fond memory before I depart. I would want everyone to think of me as the little girl who always used to beam. I never want them to remember my bitter personality; I don’t want them to ruminate on me negatively or view me in a light that models me as a sorrowful memory to reminisce about.
In my last week, I don’t want to travel around the world or go on adventures with friends or family. I want to stay at home and surround myself with the people I love. I wouldn’t tell them about my upcoming demise because I don’t want to overwhelm anyone with such heavy emotions. I want my last days to be lightweight, filled with nothing but the familiar presence of people I love. I don’t want there to be any lingering tension or sorrow in the air whenever I speak, and I don’t want them to treat me any differently than they do now. I would stay with my family rather than isolating myself in my room, and I would listen to their bickering with a smile. Instead of having to maintain a routine, I would let myself flow through life without thinking all the time. I would take part in games outside with my family members instead of cooping myself in my room by myself all the time, and this time, I would actually try my hardest to win instead of letting opportunities slip through my fingers. Time passes by fast, and the last people I want to be around are my family because I haven’t been around them enough during the time I was alive and well. I would let myself finally accept comfort and affection without thinking any self deprecating thoughts, and I would let myself return the affection I receive. I never want them to think I didn’t love them because the truth is, if there was any reason to be afraid of death, it would be because I had to leave behind a family with people who truly loved me for who I was. During my last week, I would write letters to everyone. Not just for family, this time, I would also include friends and every other person who played a significant role in my life. I could write countless pages about my family, and I could thank them for eternity, but no words can describe how meaningful they are to me. I wouldn’t make my letters emotional or sorrowful, I would write about my fondest memories with each person, because every one of those situations changed my perspective on this world.
On my last day, I would wake up before sunrise to watch it rise. Every single second mattered now, and I couldn’t let it go to waste. I would finally eat a healthy and full breakfast for once, and I would deliberately enjoy the flavor of every item on my plate. I would spend my day writing, which was one of my first loves when I first bloomed into this world. I would tell my mom, “I love you,” after years, and I would tell my sister how grateful I am to have her by my side. I would listen to whatever my brother told me to do, and I would finish my food whenever my dad served it to me. I don’t want to do anything special or quirky on my last day, I just want to be myself, and I want to tell the people I love my true feelings through real words and not just words written on paper. I would take a lot of pictures with my family, which I know they would find odd because I hate taking photos, but I think I should be remembered as an important memory. I would text my friends and let them know how grateful I was to have them in this lifetime, but I know they would be confused because I don’t do that very often anymore. On my last night, I want to go outside and lie on the grass to stargaze. I want my most treasured memory about this world to be the sky, the stars, and the moon. I always wanted someone to stargaze with, but if not, I want to experience it by myself. Later, when I’m lying in bed with my sister beside me, I would tell her how I want to be buried and remembered, but I know she’ll stare at me with a questioning look, and I will make a joke out of my own words. As my eyes closed, I would fade away with a smile on my face. The light around me will fade, and in a matter of seconds, I will be nothing but a soon-to-be distant memory to everyone. The day I awaited as a child once would arrive, and I would want nothing but to go back and tell myself to enjoy the life she had because it would fade into nothing but darkness one day. But she would never feel any discontent; she would just fade away with a smile because she got to live such a great life in her lifetime.
Author’s Note:
This piece, in particular, was inspired by my regrets and my thoughts. Sometimes, I ponder what would happen if I departed any second, and nothing but my deepest regrets wander through my mind. I wanted to view what would happen if I were able to live a life by completing everything I wasn’t able to, because in this lifetime, it’s most likely not going to happen.
Rania Mardia | 13 | Texas, USA
