What would you do if you knew you were dying? It’s a sensitive and uncomfortable question. It’s a question that most people wouldn’t want to think about.
Would you tell anybody?
Would you would want to get your affairs in order or would you just leave it to whoever you designated to take on the immense task?
Would you sell everything you had? Would you call Goodwill and have them come pick up everything you owned? Would you leave your money and assets to your next-of-kin or would you spend every penny you had and let the check to the undertaker bounce?
Would you plan a funeral? Would you plan a wake or a big party? Would you want to comb over every detail or would you want somebody else to do it for you? Would you want people to come speak on your behalf and tell anecdotal stories? Would you want a massive outpouring of tears and sadness or would you want dancing and drinking and camaraderie?
Would you want to make restitution to people you felt that you had wronged in the past? Would you ask for their forgiveness?
Would you want one last stab at retribution toward the people who had wronged you in the past or would you try to forgive them?
Would you reach out to estranged relatives who were no longer in your life for one reason or another? Would you want to reach out to a former lover or wife or husband and tell them goodbye? Would you allow people back into your life who wouldn’t give you the time of day before?
Would you become a wannabe philanthropist? Would you want your name to be on a plaque somewhere to confirm your charitable contribution?
Would you opt for aggressive treatment that included poisonous chemicals invading your body that would leave you hairless and so weak you could hardly walk? Would you spend money on unreasonably expensive drugs that could possibly prolong the inevitable or would you zestfully chase life for as long as it lasted?
Would you give up all of your vices or would you continue to indulge with the thought that it really didn’t matter anymore? Would you take up new ones with the same thought?
Would you have endless conversations in your head for the millionth time, rehashing all the “what ifs and if onlys?”
Would you be mad at the people who weren’t dying? Would you beg them not to forget you, knowing that eventually they would? Would you ask them to make promises that you knew they would never keep?
Like the Tim McGraw song, would you want to “live like you were dying?”
Would you resent dying if you felt like you had never really lived?
Would you do things that you had always wanted to do but had never done before? Would you try to see things you had always wanted to see but never could? Would you want to go places you always wanted to go but never had the chance?
Would you want to be daring and see just how fast your car could really go?
Would you feel an overwhelming need to go to church to beg for the salvation of your immortal soul? Would you confess all of your sins in hopes of being forgiven? Would you be consumed with anger? Would you want to curse God and ask him why?
Would you be confident that you were going to go to Heaven or would you be afraid that you were going to go to Hell?
Would you truly go through the five stages of death? Do you think they’d come in order?
Would it be easier to die if you knew you were and had been truly loved?
Would you consider taking your own life?
Would you want to die in a hospital? Would you want to die in an end-stage care facility hooked up to machines and needing your diaper changed? Would you want to die at home? Would you want somebody to be holding your hand at the very moment you took your last breath and your life slipped away?
Would you want to die alone?
Would you want to be cremated? If so, where would you want your ashes to be spread? Would you want certain people to have some of them? Would you want somebody to carry your ashes around in their cars’ trunk?
Would you want to be buried? If so, where? Would you want a marker to show that “once you were here?” Would you want past wives or husbands’ names on that marker? Would you want somebody to come visit your grave on your birthday or the anniversary of your death? Would it matter if you knew they never would?
What are your answers? I’ll give my answers in another post.