.... You knew it was your time?
If you were sitting in a bed with crisp, cold sheets and the sad eyes of your doctor telling you...
"There is nothing we can do." and "I am so sorry."
You go home and start writing letters, making phone calls, cleaning out drawers and making plans for your passing.
I wouldn't want to write letters or make phone calls or clean out my life.
I wouldn't want to say goodbye over 1000 miles away from my childhood friend, Mandy OR tell my aunts and uncles in New York that I will never see them again.
This story is what I would want... the laughter, the tears, the memories... I don't want a funeral of people crying in a stark building. I want the air hitting their face and feeling ME around them.
Before I go, if I am blessed enough to know the end is coming... I want to dictate MY ending, dictate MY wishes... and depart this life on my terms... It's my last rebellion.