I’ve always had a hard time accepting death, the only 100% truth and certainty in life. I think the thing that I find most difficult to accept is that I won’t be able to talk to that person again. Not that I can think of anything specific at the time, but it’s just the thought of not being able to talk to the person that has died, ever. That thought troubles me the most.
This time we were prepared. We knew it was going to happen, sooner than later. We even said our farewells a week before she actually left us. She wasn’t awake when we visited her that last time. We said our farewells while she was asleep and we all thought she didn’t look half as bad as people had prepared us for. I still regret a bit that she wasn’t awake and that we didn’t try to wake her up. But the nurses said that we were probably not going to be able to wake her. She had slept most of the day and they didn’t really think she would wake up. So we just let her sleep and told her everything we still wanted to tell her. We each said goodbye in our own way. That was Christmas day.
She died on New Year’s Eve, at midnight. What a weird moment to die, that was the first thing that went through my mind. And I realized again that no matter what, you’re never prepared for death. I think the only death you can be prepared for is your own. That’s something at least I try to tell myself when I get scared again. How can something this inevitable and natural be so painful to accept?
