I am afraid that I have given up by wanting to plan for my own death. No one has told me I am going to die, but cancer is nothing to mess with. Too many people have died of cancer to not seriously consider death as the end result as apposed to complete recovery or something in between.
I am telling myself I am just being practical, but maybe I am just morbid or I really do believe I will die. Well, I know I will die but I figured I had another 40 years or so to go.
I suddenly want to return things I have borrowed. I want to put in writing some of the things I want to leave to my sons for sentimental reasons. I have given thought to making short videos for my husband and sons. Videos of songs we sing and the inside jokes we tell each other. I want to leave them pieces of me. The good pieces while I still look like myself and on some days feel more like myself rather than the woman the pain is turning me into.
I want to get organized and throw things out I dont’ want others to have to deal with if I am not around. I want to make decisions now that might be too stressful for others to make in my absence.
I want to know when I will die. Crazy hey? It would make things so much easier in some ways. I suppose harder in others. I wish I knew when I was going to die when I was younger then I could have saved my husband the heartache of marrying a women that wasn’t going to last into old age. At this point I am hoping to see 40 come April. I feel sad. This is so not good for me. I want to use my pass port. I have one and have never gone anywhere. I want to go some where before I die.
