In the Home of my Loved Ones & One Day, How would I say Goodbye.

I am blogging this really late. These shots were taken when the house was still new. Now that my sister's family & my parents have moved in for months, the WOW factor has past.

I am here now actually. Sitting in the living room, enjoying the serenity, the beautiful garden landscape & most of all, just hanging out with my parents. Mum's preparing a simple dinner. Dad's relaxing in his bedroom with his radio playing 95.8 Capital Radio. It feels just like the old days when I was living with them. Except now I am decades older, have seen quite a bit of the world, have been through quite a bit of stuff in my life (we all know what stuff means).

Last night I had a sudden sobering thought. Supposing I was told I had terminal cancer & would die after 3 months, how would I change my priorities?

I wasn't thinking morbid. Wasn't even trying to 'depress' myself. But just a realistic, relevant (because it can happen to anyone really) hypothetical thinking & rehearsal of sorts. I said out loud in my head, what are the things or people that will really matter to me if I have but only 3 months to live? The answer is simple. Some of the things that I've been chasing after & busying myself with obviously wouldn't matter at all.

I went through the list of names in my head - Fred, Mum, Dad, Ting & Rob, & their lovely children, Ash & Tris. That's for family. It's ok to be selective. I only have 3 months afterall, which is not incredibly long. Then, I would make peace with my Creator, in my own way, through my own prayers (no, I wouldn't be rushing off to a church for a miracle healing).

The next thought I have is how would I want to die? Now this reflection is important. Not just personally but professionally. I have been asked to teach a specialist course for nurses who work in the palliative setting. And this will be 1 question I will ask them. How would you want to die if you have 3 months left?

Most people would want to have their family by their side in their last days. But it dawned upon me, as I strolled along Tanglin Road last night (to work off my dinner), that if I could do with minimal medical attention & suppose I could still feed myself, clean myself, take walks, read, blog & do stuff, I really just want to live my last days alone. Alone but not lonely. It's quite a liberating answer to the question in my head. If I can accept that dying and death is a highly personal experience, that can only be journeyed ultimately on my own, I guess I have liberated myself from the fear of loneliness, the fear of death, the fear of leaving my treasures (both things & people) behind on earth.

The courage of living & dying is when you accept that you have to face both on your own. The paradox of existence is that you cannot appreciate true intimacy if you cannot accept your ultimate 'alone' experience.