My friend is dying. Not in the Faulknerian sense that we’re all perpetually en route to our graves, but rather, she has been given a map and rough ETA for her final destination.
Diagnosed last summer with the same terminal illness that ended her father’s life a few years ago, she is fluent in how the disease communicates and hears it telling her the end is near.
While your natural inclination may be to offer condolences to either her or me, it often feels like congratulations would be more appropriate.
Every time I read an update from her on social media, I feel fortunate to be able to watch her die. “I’m so grateful for the time I get to prepare for my departure, what an incredible gift,” she wrote in the post that confirmed her diagnosis
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