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| Experiencing Death | |
| By Harrywilo | ||||||||||
| 08 March 2007 | ||||||||||
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Not a long story, but one that expresses a lot of my current feelings about life and about death. It didn't seem to be too well recieved on an american writing community; they didn't seem to understand it. however, several of my friends/family did, so i want to see what reception it gets on here. Cheers. I haven’t got long to live. Hmm; not the most upbeat sentence to begin with, but I wanted to get the basic, blunt truth out of the way. I’m David and I’ve had a good life; I really have. I’m very content about my impending death, because I’ve achieved all that I possibly could have hoped for. Well, I’m not going to live to see the next Bond film, which comes out in a few months (it’s the first one in nearly twenty years; I was really looking forward to it! Suri Cruise’s daughter is the bond girl!) I’d have also liked to reach one hundred – I’m ninety-nine years and three months old – so damn close! But anyway, my body is finally giving out. I am a bit scared, obviously; mainly because I don’t believe in an afterlife and, lets be honest, who looks forward to being worm food for the rest of eternity? Saying that, I really hope I’m wrong. Christ, when I was a young man, like, in my twenties, I would have been shit scared right now; well, I was anyway, even though I was perfectly healthy! I’ve learnt a Mark Twain quote since that fitted the way I felt at the time: ‘I have been through some terrible things in my life, some of which actually happened.’ Because I was so scared of dying, I forgot to live for a while. Only the living experience death, as they say. My life has certainly had its down points, but no-one said life was going to be fair, so I don’t know why I presumed that it would – or should - be. I like to think that there are parallel universes, where every decision is played out, so in the end it all balances out and life actually is fair. I suppose I’ll never know if this is anywhere near the truth. Down points have included getting divorced from my first wife; jeeze, we were together from when we were both seventeen, married at twenty-five and somehow fifteen years – and two kids – later, we had fallen out of love. We had stayed friends, though, and it was heartbreaking attending her funeral eight years ago – two years later my second wife died. That’s a drawback of living so long; you start to attend more and more funerals. I’ve outlived all my friends and any family that was around my age or older. At least none of my five children have died before me – I still can’t believe that I have a seventy year old daughter – how old do I feel?!? Plus, I’ve not only got to know my grandchildren into adult life, but my great-grandchildren are young adults themselves. I even got the career I always wanted. I directed my first feature film at twenty-eight and it won critical and audience acclaim. My film career couldn’t have been better; it was a great honour to be mentioned in the same breath as such greats as Kubrick, Welles and Spielberg. I even wrote a successful sitcom! Well, I could go on and into more detail about my world travelling, how I helped greatly in creating renewable resource plants all over the globe (personally, my proudest achievement) and how I had a big part in the assassination of George.W.Bush – not really! I had nothing to do with that. I’m feeling quite weak now, though – I think perhaps my time is coming sooner than I imagined… * * * * * David lay in his hospital bed. The bed he’d been in for the past three years; in the coma he was forced into after a car accident at the age of twenty-two. His parents, brother, sister and girlfriend sat at his bedside, all their faces drenched in the tears that were a result of the joint decision to ‘pull the plug’. They had all had their own private moments with him; their final goodbye and explanation for the heart-wrenching decision that they’d reluctantly come to. With a deep breath, the doctor turned the life support off. At the age of twenty-five years and three months, David Turner flat lined, as the living experienced his death.
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