Disclaimer: This chronicle has references to suicide and morbid thoughts.
Their names I may forget. Their faces may begin to blur. Their stories, and our final moments together, those will forever remain.
I do not remember the time of night or what cycle of chemo I had just completed a few days prior. My memory begins where darkness was encroaching my solitude of tears as I sat within that guest bedroom in my home in Alaska. I had used the night to disappear in the guest bedroom often so as to not wake my husband. I also used this time to truly show myself my own emotions coursing through me that I would mask throughout the days. This night, in particular, I had a conversation with Death.
Now, please understand, my version of death may not be the same as yours. I do not write to offend or persuade otherwise. I am telling my story as I remember it.
The conversation began in the silent wandering of my mind. Would I make it through this intensive treatment? Even if I did, would the cancer come back with a vengeance? Would I lose who I used to be and never find her again? Essentially, many different ideas of dying seem to reel like a digital picture book in my mind. After a few moments of watery eyes and shaking limbs, all went still within me.
I looked to my left and found they had arrived. Death. Sitting beside me on the untouched section of the bed. As if they were settling in and claiming it for themselves. I couldn't see them with the naked eye. It was a feeling. Surprised to say it was a feeling of companionship more than fear or dread. Years later, I would look back on this night and begin to realize why Death felt so familiar to me.
The conversation went from a silent wandering in my own mind to an emotional exchange of mutual understandings. They understood clearly that I was not leaving this plain of existence any time soon. All I could repeat for a good few minutes was "I am not going anywhere. I am not yours to take yet." Once I was able to ensure to myself that this was set in stone, I began to allow myself to listen to the other side of the conversation. I will not be able to describe what transpired in this moment. It was unlike any other moment in my life thus far.
Now I need to go back in time a bit in order to go forward in this story. My timeline may be a little off as my memories are fragmented thanks to past Chemotherapy treatments. I will take you back to my Sophomore year of High School. I had been one of several students in my grade chosen to be apart of a Leadership activity day at my school. The true purpose of this seminar, I couldn't tell you to be honest. The purpose it held for me has stayed with me over the years. Many activities occurred that day. Most of them about team building and learning from one another. Then, there was one much more personal.
We were paired off and broken up into groups of about 4-5 students and two adults. Except me and one other student; the most popular and most beloved student of my grade. We were classmates, nothing more. We had exchanged pleasantries from time to time. Had a few classes together. He had always been the type of student that had his clique, but always greeted everyone with a smile, a wave, and a laugh if he could. We were the last two grouped together and put with two adults; one whom had known my group partner and his family for years, and the other adult being the school counselor whom we both knew.
We were asked to dig deep and discuss items of emotional importance to us. Never forced or encouraged to overshare if we did not want to, but given the chance to if we felt the need.
I remember watching my now group partner wave and flash his classic smile to his other friends as he came to sit in the chair I had pulled up for him. The moment he sat down however, the weight of a thousand worlds seemed to have come crashing down upon his shoulders as he slouched forward. Being a daughter of an Army Major, this boy next to me reminded me of a solider struggling desperately to not allow defeat to over take him.
Little was said in our group, although there was a bustle of conversation occurring around us. I don't quite remember the full conversation, nor to be honest, would I share it if I did. I remember the sense of calm I felt. All I wanted in that moment was to help him release the emotional pressure I could sense building within him. I remember telling him that I would be there if he ever needed to talk to someone outside his inner circle. Someone who could hold the space he needed to allow him to feel safe and heard. No judgement held or questions asked. The smile he gave me was one of pure gratitude and peace. I had never seen this on anyone before. The image of his round face, waterfilled blue eyes, and this never before seen smile has become an image in my mind I hold dear. This frozen moment in time created a silent understanding and quiet friendship that would continue for over a year.
Sadly, this would come to an abrupt end.
In 2008, our school was given the news that this kind and loveable classmate, my silent friend, had taken his own life.
Remember when I said it would be years later until I understood my familiarity with Death. This time with my silent friend, would be the first time I remember sensing Deaths presence providing me the emotional tools needed to be there for my silent friend.
Since my conversation with Death nearly eleven years ago, I have had the honor of befriending, caring for, and sometimes without knowing it, holding space for those near Death's door. Over two handfuls of people. We had been close and held deep conversations. I was there when it seemed I was most needed. Months, sometimes weeks, before they passed on.
All of them, I considered family to me. I feel their absences everyday.
I have come to the realization that I feel as if Death needed a friend in the mortal plain. A secretary if you will. Someone who will be there as the person people can confide in and look to when they feel others won't understand. I have no clue how this came into my life. I did not ask for it nor do I hold this as my role in life or my life purpose. I just find it humbling and do not take it for granted should the situation arise.
It hurts, to say the least. Survivor's guilt is a real and true sense I feel everyday I wake up. Gratitude soon follows thanks to these people I have had the honor of being near in their last days.
I used to tell myself, "I will live for them. I will do the things they would never get to." As the years have gone on and I have watched Death take others, I realize, I am not to live a life that has gone. I am to live the life that is still untouched.
I like to think back on that night in Alaska, in my room filled with darkness. But as time moves on, this memory begins to show a light sitting next to me, instead of the darkness that settled on the bed beside me.
Dying is final, loss is forever, but how we choose to face these is up to us. Hold the space. Remain in peace. You may find a friend in the shadows.
With hope,
Anndi
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