Here it is. I’m dead.

Here it is, I’m dead…

These are the first (or probably last) words that Derek Miller wrote in his blog. What was supposed to be an avenue of learning for computer hardware and software aficionados like him, the website became a chronicle of his journey towards the end of his battle with metastatic colorectal cancer, including the random thoughts and experiences he underwent in between. I went on to search if it were true, as it is rampant in the blogworld that deaths are being faked to get attention, a certain article said. The best of my judgment came into conclusion that Derek Miller is a true character and situation…or should I say was (he succumbed to his illness on May 3, 2011).

It pains to read the entire entry. No matter how unwilling I try, I cannot resist being visually graphical. His words towards his family: his two daughters and his parents, were so beautifully and sincerely written I could hear him speak through me as if I was not an onlooker. I could not keep my tears from falling as I reached the last part, when, repeatedly, he told his wife that he loved him, he loved him. He loved him.

Airdrie, you were my best friend and my closest connection. I don’t know what we’d have been like without each other, but I think the world would be a poorer place. I loved you deeply, I loved you, I loved you, I loved you.

I was supposed to use Derek’s story as an introduction for my own version of my death, and draft a version of my eulogy so that family and friends will not have a hard time making one anymore (because I will bitterly say I’m sure they will all be busy to remember). However, I was taken aback by the aforementioned investigation about fake death bloggers, and wouldn’t want to be charged guilty of Munchausen by Internet Syndrome (although I would say every one wants to feel like someone cares).

Instead, I see this as a realization parallel to Tina Su’s: our human existence is impermanent, and the time we have as living, breathing, creative beings is precious. We think so much of problems, of worries, of what we don’t have, that we bring ourselves closer to our psychological deathbeds. We think of death more than life, and it should be the other way around. We prepare so much in our breathing moments so that when death comes, we don’t leave Earth with unanswered questions, unresolved problems, or troubled relationships. We are more concerned on what lies across and over the mortality line, that we forgot we don’t even need to think about it in the first place.

Between living life as if it’s your last, and living life to the fullest, I would prefer the latter. If we live with the notion that this is our last, sure, we will cherish every second of it, but it doesn’t remove the anxiety in us, because at your 23rd hour, 59th minute, and 59th second, there is still a cast of uneasiness in you, and in the people you will leave behind.

Whereas, living life to the fullest is living life for the sake of living life to the fullest. No hangups, no worries, no nothing; just high doses of happy pills. And love. Love. Love.

I am not yet dead, I don’t know if I’m dying (hopefully not), but I am definitely NOT thinking about it, or my eulogy, anymore. I am thinking of what I will do tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that, and how I can make each one of it THE best day of my life.

I think and hope that’s what my daughters can take from my disease and death. And that my wonderful, amazing wife Airdrie can see too. Not that they could die any day, but that they should pursue what they enjoy, and what stimulates their minds, as much as possible—so they can be ready for opportunities, as well as not disappointed when things go sideways, as they inevitably do.

-kms-