I Hope I Die Like Her

     Right before mom died she was in a hospice care facility. Even though she was only there a few days, I felt like I entered and left a thousand times. Despite what a hard time that was in my life, I wanted to look around. I made friends with the patients, with the families. We knew each other and supported each other in a way that only those who are waiting for death can. I especially remember a little old lady that sat by the front door.

       I remember her because she was happy and she would talk to anybody. Well, I actually I remember her because at night she had a bottle of Arbor Mist by her wheelchair. I felt sorry for her. I never saw her with family, but that doesn't mean she didn't have any. We spoke briefly about her as a family. She's in hospice and she has a bottle of wine every night? 

      Now though, I hope I die like her.  I do hope I have family around. I hope I can comfort that family with my bottle of wine and no telling how many painkillers. I want to die still appreciating my sanity and the good little things in life. I don't want to die sad and bringing down everyone around me. I want to wait on death with a bottle of wine and a smile for those who come through the door who are also waiting. I want to die sure of my future, at rest with my past, and hopefully with a lot of morphine and a bottle of Arbor Mist.