In my Time of Dying

  In my Time of Dying

I was dying of cancer. That's what all the doctors had told me. It had come about from a lifetime of bad living and bad luck. I went through all the various stages they tell you about. Denial, anger, acceptance, and all of that rot. What they don't tell you is the last stage. Waiting. When everything is said and done, its just you, sitting there, waiting.

  I learned that when a crisis comes into your life, the silence from the people around you is deafening. I had very few friends and none very close. The few casual acquaintances I knew faked a bit of concern, but I could tell they were thinking, "Better you than me."

  When the time came that my body started showing the effects of the cancer, I resigned my employ. As far as I could tell, no one noticed. I no longer needed money. Money is for staying alive. Dying is free.

  Henry David Thoreau once said that a man should be able to leave his home with nothing but the clothes on his back and feel that he left nothing behind. As my time grew near, I did just that.

  I headed East with the sun against my back, traveling into the wooded hills to the place of the caves. I had spent many childhood days camping and exploring the vast labyrinth of underground passages. The one particular cave I had in mind was quite difficult to find. Its opening was about three times the size of a common rabbit hole.

  After some considerable pacing of the hillside, I found my giant rabbit hole. Sitting on the ground, I dangled my legs into the opening and slipped down. There was no Wonderland to be found here, only a cavern the size of an average motor garage. I lit a match and found my way towards the rear of the cave.

  A small outcropping of flat stone protruded from the back wall, forming a natural bench. Here, I took a seat and spent the night contemplating what little effect I had on the world I left behind.

  I thought of myself as a child. Always the one standing at the far side of the playground watching the other children play, desperate to be part of the group. As I grew into manhood, I came to the determination that I would live my life for no others. I had grown tired of being the odd man out. The world I created had the most noble of ideals, to flow like water through the landscape without making a wave. To be nondescript.

  I became the invisible king of an invisible kingdom. The ruler of a nation, of one. What a glorious life I lived. My pleasures had been simple. Good food, fine wine, readings of the classics. My life was too good to share. As I sat on my rock, in my cave, these thoughts warmed my soul.

  As I sat, lost in contemplation, I noticed a faint beam of light enter through the rabbit hole. A new day had begun. The thought occurred to me that I should enjoy one last simple pleasure. A sunrise. I made my way back to the mouth of the cave, and with great effort, pulled myself back to the top of the hole.

  The sunlight had just began to break above the tree line. Down in the meadow below my hill, a small cottage stood several hundred metres across the field from my vantage point. Two small children came running from the back door and were prancing about with a woman, who I assumed was their mother, hot on their heels. How I felt for the poor woman. From sunrise to sunset, no time to call her own. All she had to give, her toil and sweat, her joy and happiness, all willingly turned over to this thing she calls, family. It only re-enforced the conviction that my life had been well spent.

  I leaned back to feel the warm beams of light touch my face, took the cool breeze into my weakened lungs and bid the surface world goodbye. My wait was coming to its end. I re-entered the cave.