
08/14/2025
Still, there are nights when that fear creeps back in. I never thought I’d be afraid to close my eyes and drift off to sleep, but living with a terminal illness has changed everything. What once was routine, falling into bed after a long day, letting my body rest, has become a nightly battle with my mind. It’s not just the fear of dying, it’s the deeper, nagging questions that keep me awake: What if I don’t wake up? What if this is the last time I see my best friend, the last kiss goodnight, the last time I feel the warmth of my dog at my feet?
And it’s not unfinished business or unachieved goals that haunt me; those feel distant now. Instead, I lie awake wondering if I’ve done enough for the people I love. Have I truly prepared my daughters for a life without me? Will the love I’ve given them carry them through their own difficult days? The fear isn’t in the act of dying itself; it’s in the uncertainty of the legacy I’ll leave behind. Have I left them with enough strength, enough wisdom, enough of me?