To my family:
By the time you read this, I will have moved on to whatever comes after this life. Yes, I knew this was coming, and no, I don’t regret choosing not to tell you.
When I first got my diagnosis, it took me a day or so to get over the shock. Then I picked up the phone to tell you what was going to happen, but when I heard your voice, what popped out of my mouth was, “Let’s take a trip together.” I had no intention of saying that until the words were out of my mouth, but once they were out, I realized they were perfect. If my days were numbered, why not make the most of them?
Once we got off the phone, I told myself I would give you the full story later. But “later” kept getting pushed back until I realized I was almost out of time. At first, I didn’t want to ruin our trip with bad news. I just wanted to enjoy spending time with you. After our trip, I kept finding excuses to put it off. I realize this was selfish, but if you can’t be selfish at the end of your life, when can you? Haven’t I earned the right to a little selfishness? I realize not everyone has the opportunity to choose how they die, but if they are granted the opportunity, shouldn’t they be free to make the choice that’s best for them?
So, I am sorry I have to leave you. I’m sorry for the grief and anger you’ll feel. But I’m not sorry for dying on my own terms. I enjoyed every minute with you in Portugal, and I can’t think of a higher note to end on than that trip. I hope you’ll remember that trip with as much fondness as I do, and I hope that, in time, you’ll learn to forgive me.
All my love,
Isabel