I'm Not Even Sure What To Call This One

A few nights ago three of my girlfriends and I were sitting in our Res dining hall. We had finished eating our dinner and we were enjoying - as much as Res food can be enjoyed - cups of watery coffee while waiting for the rain to subside before we walked back to our house. The conversation then turned to death. Yes, we are getting all morbid here today, but stick with me. 

We spoke about how we wanted to die. We all concluded that the best way to go was in our sleep, peacefully. Someone then mentioned that they would hate to have a terminal illness. I voiced how I wouldn't mind knowing I was dying. It would give me a chance to say my goodbyes and let the people I love know just how much they really meant to me, not that I don't do this at every available opportunity.

Via

Later that night, as I was lying flat on my back in my bed, staring into the cool darkness of my room, I found my thoughts drifting back to the topic of death. However, not death in general. This time I began thinking of someone specifically who is not far away from this thing that so many people are afraid of. My grandfather. My biological mother's dad is dying. 

It is no secret that my biological mom and I don't have a great relationship. I speak to her occasionally. For the most part we're civil with one another, but there are times where it gets ugly between us and so I try to limit our interaction. I consider Clauds to be my mom - she has treated me like her daughter since the first day that she came into our lives and she is my best friend. Cutting myself off from my mom in 2007 meant cutting out most of my maternal family, including my grandpa. My grandpa and I were never extremely close but he was always present in my childhood. He is a troubled man and has spent his life fighting the ugly beast that is alcoholism. Although I am not particularly close with my grandpa, it still hurts to know that in a little while he will no longer be here.

About a week ago my mom let me know that he had had a stroke. His entire left side of his body is completely paralised and will never recover. He is in a constant state of confusion and doesn't always know who she, my step dad or their children are. He is also battling with anorexia and emphysema. My heart breaks for this man and for my family who are having to witness him go through all of this. My heart breaks for him, not because he is dying - death is inevitable and something we should not be afraid of - but because he has simply survived through life. His life is a life, dare I say, wasted. For the most part of his life, he has been lonely and unhappy.

Via

I have never been one to take things for granted. I appreciate each and every person in my life as well as every moment. I never end a phone call with family members without saying "I love you". Even when it comes to my broken relationship with my mom, she knows I love her and that nothing has been left unsaid. At the age of 19 years and 11 months, I can say that if I had to die today I would die happy and with no regrets. Obviously there is so much I still want to do and I hope that I live to do all of these things, but I am content with the person that I am and with the relationships I have.

I am no stranger to death and here I am, about to be faced with it again. And so today I am going to remind myself how blessed I am that I am healthy, that I am loved and that I am alive. Today I'm going to send family members a text or two reminding them that I love them, just because there are so many people who would love to have the opportunity to do the little things that we often go throughout our day to day business without doing.