The Death Wish

I’ve settled comfortably into my couch with a glass of wine in my shaky hand. It’s my first Christmas alone, and I’m taking stock of my feelings. This is what I wished for. This is what I wanted. And I’m trying to decide if it’s all I expected it to be.

I’m 152 years old. It’s hard to believe I’m still able to live on my own and take care of myself. But I guess that comes as part of my wish. I’m the only one left in my small circle of friends and family, exactly how I wanted it to be. I was always afraid of death, but not for the reasons one might think.

Let me explain what happened before I explain the why behind this all. Like I said, I’ve always been afraid to die. I know it happens to everyone. I can talk about it abstractly, but when I was younger and thought about it seriously, it would grip my heart in terror. I wasn’t afraid of it hurting. I’m still not. That’s not it. But it is about pain. I’ll explain soon. But I had a dream one night when I was around age 60. I dreamed that I was on vacation in some beach town and I was walking along the beach and found a bottle washed up on shore, half buried in the sand. I know, this sounds like the start of a cliche. But I picked up the bottle and opened it, and of course there was a piece of paper in the bottle, so I managed to wrench the cork out of the bottle and looked at the slip of paper. It said, “Ask for one and it shall be so.” Again, another cliche, but it was a dream, so go with it! I took the bottle and little piece of paper with me back to my beach chair, showed it to my husband, and sat with it, trying to decide what I would wish for if I could have only one wish. We talked a bit about silly things we could wish for – more money, to be skinnier or eat anything we want and never get fat. We talked about serious things, like ending hunger or child abuse or bringing about world peace. In the end, I decided what my wish would be, so I said, “I wish that I could live long enough to see everyone I love through to the ends of their lives.” And that’s where the dream ended and I woke up.

But clearly that was more than just a dream, because here I am at age 152, and everyone I love has been seen through to the ends of their lives, and I was there for it. I have no idea what happened, what strange force was at play in that dream, but I got what I wished for.

The first to go was my dad. He was 82 when he died. It was pretty awful, I’ll admit. He was outside doing some yardwork when he tripped over the garden hose and hit his head on the concrete patio and never woke up. Six years later, I lost my mom. That was super hard, but a weird blessing in disguise. She had been plagued by illness for the last 20 years of her life, but fortunately, she passed away in her sleep. I was weird to think I no longer had my parents with me, but really, isn’t that the natural order of things? I was 68 when I was finally without both my parents.

Eventually, I lost my husband. He was 91 when his heart just gave out. Honestly, it’s no surprise. My husband spent his life giving his heart away to everyone he knew. He took care of everyone he cared about, whether it was little things like taking out the trash for me when it was raining outside or driving people to the airport or doing odd jobs at a friend’s house or covering for others when they called off sick at work. His heart had to have been tired after more than 90 years of giving. We were married for 68 years. I was 92 when he left me. Most people expected me to die not long after. I loved him with every fiber of my soul and it would have been poetic to be the kind of couple that died within days of each other because we just couldn’t be apart. But it obviously didn’t happen that way. I didn’t know it then, but my dream wish was at work.

I became a curiosity as I started to wake up each morning after passing age 100. Especially because I was still pretty spry. I mean, I was definitely wrinkly and showing my age! I needed a cane to walk, and I couldn’t safely drive myself anywhere, but I was able to get around my little house enough to live on my own and take care of myself. Of course, I had some help from my beautiful daughter and granddaughter. My daughter finally died when she was 81. She died like her father did; her giving heart (yes, she got that from her daddy) just gave out while she was asleep. I was 109, and I thought for sure losing my child would end me. Of course, by this time, I had started to wonder if something was wrong with me – I couldn’t seem to die. I kept going back to that dream I had so, so many years before and wondering what the hell happened, how a wish made in a dream could seem to be coming true. But there I was, burying my child. No mother wants to live through that hell, but I did it. It’s not any easier when your child is old and lived a full, productive life and left this world in a natural way. It still tears at the fiber of your being.

Little did I know I still had 43 more years left to go. That’s how many years passed between losing my daughter and my granddaughter. She lived an amazing 96 years, and I’m not going to lie, what an absolute blessing it was for me to be able to be here for her entire life! That happened just after Thanksgiving.

And now, here I am, my first Christmas alone. My granddaughter was the end of the line. One might wonder why I would ever wish for something that would eventually cause me such immense personal pain. Imagine how it would be to bury your parents, your spouse, your kids, and your grandkids. So let me try to explain why I would wish for something so awful.

It’s pain. Not my pain. Everyone else’s pain. One might think that’s a bit arrogant of me to think others can’t live without me. But I promise, it’s not arrogance. It’s love and the desire to protect and shield those I love from pain and suffering. When I would think of how my husband or daughter might hurt if they lost me, my heart would pound and I would feel a little sick to my stomach. Especially my daughter. I always thought if I could get some promise that she would be fine and taken care of and know she would be okay, then maybe I wouldn’t be so scared to die and leave her behind. I just always knew how big her heart was, and my daughter loved me in ways I didn’t deserve. I just couldn’t stand the thought of her heart aching without her mommy. I used to think how great it would be if I could die slowly so she had a chance to say goodbye to me, or to be able to say that it was a blessing to finally see me go. I definitely didn’t want to die suddenly. That’s a burden I didn’t want to place on her heart – losing her mother AND replaying whatever our last interaction was and wishing she had a chance to say or do something more.

I won’t lie and say that the thought of living without my husband didn’t scare me to my core. But when it is all said and done, I honestly think he always loved me more than I loved him – and I loved him a lot. I just always worried he would waste away in sadness without me. He always had a hard time bouncing back from loss. He would get lost in his own mind and just couldn’t seem to come back from it. I was always afraid of what his life would look like, alone in our bed at night, his heart aching for me. It was too much for me to think about, so as much as it always scared me to live without him, I always thought it would just be better for me to be the one who lives longer.

I just didn’t realize what that meant when I wished my dream wish. Wanting other people to not feel emotional pain, taking it all on myself. It’s something. So that’s where I’m at now. I’ve lived 152 years and now I am literally all alone. Was it worth it? I’m going to need to drink this wine while I ponder that.

It’s amazing how much a human heart can take. I lived with, loved, lost, and buried all the people who shaped me, meant the most to me, fulfilled me. With the loss of each one, I was sure my heart would give out, but it hasn’t. My body is unnaturally old and tired, and my heart still beats even though I think I’m ready for it to stop. It’s easy to get lost in the pain of loss and loneliness. And I do that quite a bit. Sometimes I just sit and cry until I’m all cried out. There’s no one left for me, and I wished for this. Each night now, I go to bed and wish I wouldn’t wake up. After all, what do I have waiting for me at the start of each new day? It’s not like I’m young and vibrant and can fill my days with all sorts of activity. All I can do is putter around my house, not seeing or hearing from a soul. No one to call. No one to visit. I feel dead inside, but my heart still beats. I have to wonder how that can be.

But sometimes, I smile, like now, while I’m polishing off this wine, letting the lights on the small Christmas tree in front of me get blurry from the tears in my eyes. I smile because what I got from this strange wish granted to me is a gift. What a gift to be able to do what is normally expected, like live a life learning from people like my parents and then be able to send them away to a peaceful afterlife with such fond memories. What a gift to be able to choose another human being to spend so many years with, to laugh and love and grow with, and then get to be his last kiss, the last voice he hears, the last smile he sees, the last hug he gets, the last hand he holds. What a gift to be able to bring another human being into this world, watch her grow up into a beautiful woman, both inside and out, and then drift out of my life peacefully, knowing she lived a full and happy and fulfilling life, getting to know her for every single year she was on this earth, never having to wonder what she could have been or might have done. I got to see it all. What gift to see he bring a legacy into this world on her own in the form of my granddaughter and get the same joy from her that I got from my own child – being able to see every moment of her life, never having to live without her, being able to hold her tiny pink hand and her soft, wrinkled hand in the same lifetime. The pain in my heart, the loneliness I feel, the emptiness I now live in – it’s all worth it because I got to do what so many people want – to live fully with everyone who means the most to me, to never have anyone grieve for me, to never be missed or absent. That’s the best Christmas gift anyone could ever ask for.