| Six Months To Live |
| Copyright July 2001 Carol L. Parent |
| His hair was brown, and he wore a white baseball cap. Carrying a soda can in his left hand, he held her hand with his right. His light blue shirt and khaki tan shorts rippled with the soft breeze that blew over the water and onto the pier. The two walked for a bit, then they stopped. He held up his hand to her long straight brown shiny hair and softly rubbed the back of her head. Her white tank top was tight and contrasted with her brown corduroy pants, which were also tight, in a complimentary way to her figure. The two leaned against the wood railing of the pier, looked into each other’s eyes and embraced. They shared a soft sweet kiss, and then continued walking down the dock, all the while holding hands and looking at the sun’s reflection on the water. And, they knew they were in love. They had just finished eating their lunch in their two-toned blue Chevy Blazer, which was parked in the shade of a large oak tree. Together they ate and talked about what they would do for the rest of the day and how they would spend their time together. Today was supposed to be his last day alive. Six months prior to their walk at the pier, they had not even yet met each other, and he had been diagnosed with severe cancer of the stomach. Although the doctor felt he could be treated for the pain, he would never recover and his illness would inevitably result in an untimely death. Six months, the doctor had said, six more months to live. So for the rest of the month, he concentrated on making his final arrangements. He had no dependants, only a dog, and surely his parents would take his dog into their care without question. Other than that, he possessed no assets, and very little liabilities, so there really was no reason to produce a will for his surviving family members. It was December and he knew the approaching holiday season would be his last. He attended dinners with his family, with his brother and two sisters, and participated in the “Secret Santa” event at work, all the while keeping the secret that he was dying. After Christmas was over and New Year’s had passed, and all the festivities from the holidays had died down, he made an appointment with Mr. Carson of the Carson Funeral Home to make his own burial arrangements. After his passing, Mr. Carson had been instructed to notify his parents that all the arrangements had been taken care of and paid for, so as to relieve some of the stress of having to bury their youngest son. So everything was set, and all he had to do was wait for the day to come that would be his last and he would pass away from this disease. He endured treatments of chemotherapy and radiation, which made him sick to his stomach, but it was an attempt to kill the cancer that flooded his body, although a futile attempt at that. Come late January, he enrolled himself into a class at the local community college for creative writing. He figured this way he would be able to write about how he felt, and how it felt to be dying at such a young age. In his class was a woman who sat next to him, and they began talking each day after class was over. She shared stories about herself, and he shared stories with her, although none so personal as to reveal that he was so ill. One day, he asked her if she would like to go to dinner with him one evening when class had dismissed. It was this day that they began dating and from then on, they spent a great deal of time together. So here it was early June. The air was warm, and the sun was strong. The trees were full with leaves that were a healthy shade of green. The outdoors almost seemed to have a special smell to it that was inviting, as if to say, “Come outside and enjoy what I have put here for you.” Butterflies flew around, and birds sang in the skies above, and the voices of children playing could be heard echoing throughout. And on this particular June day, he had chosen to share his unfortunate fate with his On this particular day, the couple went to a small sandwich shop, where they purchased two sandwiches and drove to the park. “I have to tell you something,” he said to her on the way. “So tell me she said,” as she leaned over and kissed him playfully on the cheek. “I will tell you when we get to the park. Let’s eat our lunches, and then we will talk.” |