Being On the Universe’s Shit List

…

I have spent the last week arguing with myself because I can’t argue with my friend. Her mind is made up. She will not fight cancer.

She has accepted her diagnosis and, according to her husband, she made up her mind right then and there at the doctor’s office when she announced that she would not take on the battle, but would surrender fightless.

She is waving the white flag to stage IV pancreatic cancer, and now we, her family and friends, are left to hope for wisdom and strength.

Once again, I am reminded what friendship really means. ‘Be there and shut up.’ It’s not my place to change her opinion. My job as a good friend is to accept her decision, and right now, my job as a friend sucks.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked her, and she smiled. “Not if you want to change my mind.”

I want to yell at her, but what right do I have? I want to spend more time with her. We all wish for the same. More time. It can’t be over. I want to shout at her, We. Are. Not. Ready.

I know my friend very well. I don’t even have to ask her, but I know her answer to my unasked question. She has this silly wish to go with dignity. The same foolish wish we all have. Her husband, her kids, her friends, and all the other people who love her dearly will be left behind too soon.

This dignity-thing is on my nerves as well. I wish for dignity myself, but others—with others meaning the people I love—should not dare to ask for the same thing when it interferes with my needs and wishes, don’t you think?

Dignity for me, but all others, please suffer so that I don’t have to miss you. That’s pretty much what it comes down to.

I have lost so many friends. It’s not like I have a countless supply lying around. I am a picky friend chooser, which bites me now in the buttocks. I am not an easy one to call a friend, but a friend for a lifetime—if you have me. Maybe I forgot to add that it should be a long lifetime, preferably for all participants.

My friends need to stop dying because I don’t want to be alone. There it is, the truth. One day, I might have to face aloneness just the way it was when I was a very young adult. I and the rest of the world, or perhaps I against the rest of the world.

My first friend died when I was eight. Anja didn’t come to class one day. We learned that she had been a bit gassy in school the day before, and she had been holding it back for hours. She died so young of stomach colics. That’s when we all learned that girls have gas too and that we were not supposed to hold it in, but could excuse ourselves to the bathroom. (I think I might have taken the advice to NOT HOLD IT IN that day for all aspects of life).

In Memphis, in the house that ended our houseless times, I met Miss Liz, our next-door neighbor, in the first week. She was a fragile-looking older lady. I estimated her to be in her early 70’s. Which was off by a mile, because a couple of months later—after I had fallen head over heels in love with my new friend—she confessed she was 92 years young.

I remember thinking: I am setting myself up for heartbreak. And of course I did. My friend Miss Liz left this beautiful, crazy planet before her 96th birthday. “I don’t want my children to die before me,” she confessed once to me. She also mentioned she was tired. Perhaps that’s why she just stopped eating until she peacefully drifted away.

So many friends who touched my soul are no longer around.

…

…

My friend doesn’t want surgery or treatments. I do respect that because I would choose the same (but don’t tell her in case she can’t guess).

Her life expectancy is up to the stars, but might be around half a year, maybe longer. She wants to spend a few weeks in Crete this spring, a Greek island she always wanted to visit. She has other plans as well. “You make our travel itinerary,” she demanded with a smile, because she wants to see other places as well. “Time for some quality time, and I need to work on my bucket list now.” Oh, how I love this crazy woman.

Every time I think I might have finally figured this Life-Thing out, something happens that shows me otherwise.

This Love-Thing sucks, too. Not all of it, but the part of letting go.

Losing a friend or a loved one might be the most life-changing event we have to live through. Some of us only once, others, like me, who seem to be on the universe’s shit-list, will live through it multiple times.

So, to answer today’s question. My perspective on life?

It’s short (Life, I mean), and being a friend sucks sometimes.

And now here it comes: The weekly reminder that I have published a book that I want you to consider reading. How is this for marketing? Like my book matters right now.

…

Daily writing prompt

How do significant life events or the passage of time influence your perspective on life?

View all responses