This is not a post I wanted to write.
I want you to remember me as something like Tony Stark, at the finale of Avengers: Endgame
That would not, however, be the truth, and as things continue downhill (new and bigger tumours, making it hard to breathe, among other things...and as for the other things, don't ask), I find my mind going places that are weak and maudlin...
I think, but for the love of Mike,
don’t think on it too long,
what my world might be like
when I am dead and gone.
Will the dogs prick up their ears,
run barking to the door
when they dream that they hear
a voice that comes no more?
Will Barb, on waking, smell the bread
that I once used to bake,
and remembering that I am dead
wish there was some mistake
and though she’s not the sort to cry,
put head in hands, and ask God Why?
I would guess that everyone who's watching death approach thinks this...what will thing be like without me? Will there be an echo of my presence where I once walked?
The answer is, well, of course. As John Donne wrote, Ask not for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.
Every death's a loss; every death changes things.
So it's a natural path for the mind to follow. It's also (to my mind) the wrong path, because it bespeaks a lack of trust in God, and something of a repudiation of Paul in Phil. 3:13-14