Trying to write about something that I have yet to experience and could never communicate to those who want to know. I wrote about the many things that Dying could be. (Some chapters flagged as M for language, I'll mark them.)
"Dying is terrifying and real and the one thing that everyone has in common. Dying is the end of a life and the end of existence and the end of being real. Dying is fading into a memory. It's so incredibly real and there and you can't stop it- the one part of your life th
Dying is the very real– the very plausible fear of being forgotten. It’s horrible and frightening and full of what-if’s that become never-will-be’s and loneliness. Dying is hoping that you’ll be remembered.
Dying is the overwhelming fear of being remembered for all the wrong things. It’s terrible and atrocious and full of I-can’s that become I-should-have’s and self-hatred. Dying is hoping that you’ll be forgiven. Dying is hoping that you’ll be forgotten.
Dying is mysterious and impossible. ‘It will never happen to me’ we say. How could it? How could I die? I’m alive. I’m alive and I’m here and I’m real and it will never happen to me. I won’t let it. Dying is impossible.
Dying is terrifying and real and the one thing that everyone has in common. Dying is the end of a life and the end of existence and the end of being real. Dying is fading into a memory. It’s so incredibly real and there and you can’t stop it- the one part of your life that you can’t change besides being born. Dying is inevitable.
Dying is cruel and selfish and ‘why did you have to leave? I hate you I hate you I hate you. Why did you leave? I hate you.’ Dying is leaving others behind and abandonment.
Dying is rest and peace and calm. It’s stillness-perfect sleep. Dying is forgetting life.
Dying is white hallways and shaky hands and a choking, savage fear. It’s clasping cool fingers and praying every day. It’s the hope for a miracle and a pure, vindictive pleasure of seeing someone alive even if they are suffering. Dying is being hopeful.
Dying is being tired and worn out and done. It’s relief- a sigh, a breath. It’s letting go and being free. It’s one last smile and a kiss on the forehead and clenched hands and then- nothing. Dying is being released.
Dying is hatred and grief and doubt. It’s cursing everything and everyone including yourself because you ‘should’ve been stronger – should have fought harder. And really, I thought they only said this in movies, but why wasn’t it me? You were better. You loved harder. You should be here. Please please please please please…’ Dying is praying without faith.
Dying is the hope that you’re loved ones will be loved and hoping that they can feel you. That you can force enough love into them so that even when you’re gone they still have your heart. It’s hoping that they never forget and never stop hoping and its just hope upon hope upon hope. ‘Please, promise me, tell me. Please. You can’t forget. Ever. You can’t.’ Dying is one last wish.
Dying is regret and relief and just everything you’ve ever felt because the love swallows you up and you just miss them so much ‘and please, I miss you please come back. Please I don’t even know- don’t even know what I’m going to do. Please. You don’t even understand. Hurts so much. Why. Oh God. Please. Dying is the end of a story and hurt and love and missing someone you could never imagine being gone.
Dying is not being able to forget. Dying is empty prayers and broken wishes. Dying is the embodiment of humanity.