A letter from the day I die.

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My Sunday fiction :

To the world I’m about to leave behind,

No, this is not a suicide. Why would someone opt for a suicide at age 83, I cannot even bow down to tie my laces and blood scares me so much that I almost fainted when they rushed that guy next door to the hospital.
No, this is not seeking moksha either. I still cannot refrain myself from wearing Jimmy choo’s and smoking cigar.
This is the kind of dying that just happens and should happen.

I have lived a beautiful life even though it was nothing like I planned in the first place. There has to be umpteen number of things that I’ve missed on, but right now while  I’m writing this I cannot recall any of them. Isn’t that enough proof of a life not wasted?
I wanted to travel to Greece but we could not afford Europe so I went to Alaska instead, I swear I had the best of time tied to the chest of my husband in the room of the inexpensive motel. I remember the cheap paintings as much as I remember the clear sky of Alaska. We even went camping in the countryside!
I hated the yellow car my son bought me for my 50th birthday, but I loved the ride we went on later. He let me drive!
Now 33 years later, my grandson drives me to their home in NYC in that same car and nothing feels better. However, it is a loud city. Sigh.
I served the army for 14 years and when I retired, they honored me so well that my daughter had tears of pride. That is one feeling that surpasses the enormity of the  tears my father had when he I got selected by the armed forces.
I never wanted to leave the town where I was born and brought up but after my husband passed away, my son asked me to live with him in the city. I couldn’t oblige and he did not visit me for 2 years, then one day, he came. It was my birthday!
I’ve been to the beaches, sailed by the glaciers and swimmed through lakes. I always wanted different things from life but whatever it dropped into my share was fair enough. Silly how acceptance does wonders!
I’ve been on a wheel chair for 3 years now but I still cook white sauce pork for my grandson whenever he visits. I have the best dog, I want my folks to take care of him when I die.
I have seen and been through everything in life, now before the events start repeating themselves, I want to die. I hate being bored, you know?

I do not hold any regrets while I’m leaving a world as beautiful as this one. I do not even regret having been a sadist for some people. They all die anyway, don’t they? And so shall I.
I have worn shimmer on funerals and eaten ice creams on diets. I’ve got drenched in the rain with my ex lover and parked my car on the wrong lane.

I’ve seen my kids getting good jobs and getting married, I’ve seen their kids getting good jobs and getting married. Now the chronological order will make me sick. And I don’t want to die sick.

But before I die, I’ll take a beautiful selfie. Please do not use a bad monotonous picture of me for my funeral.
Love to all.

Posted from WordPress for Android

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43 thoughts on “A letter from the day I die.

  1. This was something very thoughtful ….to write about yourself standing at the porch of death 🙂 I liked how you added up your real dream of being an army person in your future 🙂

    Liked by 3 people

  2. Exceptional! To write what you witness through the eyes of someone ready for death at an age you haven’t been through or even close to is remarkably difficult and you’ve done an incredible job at it.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. If there is one word that sums up the 83 year old life, it seems to be “satisfaction.” It doesn’t seem like a world filled with great emotion, but an 83 year old is also probably tired of life’s challenges over this duration of time. Satisfaction may very well be exceptionally pleasing to this person. I question how many people end their lives far short of this. I believe the emotions in this letter reveal true contentment. I am actually quite happy for her.

    Like

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