Caring
When I got the fatal diagnosis, my world flipped—not because of what would happen to me, but I worried about my mom, who’s starting to lose herself to dementia. I’m her only family; she has no siblings. She’s seventy now, and since the women in our family tend to live long (my grandmother and aunts made it to 90), she could have about thirty years left. But I won’t be here even a year from now. So my bucket list has just one goal: save enough money to place her in a good care home. Time’s tight, but if I work hard, I can make it happen.
Taking the Leap
At 68, my family thinks I’m crazy, but my one wish is to try bungee jumping. I’ve always wanted to, but I was scared the rope might snap and I’d die. Well, now I don’t have to worry about that—if I fall, I’ll only live a few months less than I otherwise would.
Peace
I want to make peace with my dad. We haven’t spoken in four years over a disagreement (we’re both stubborn and proud, maybe too much), but before I die, I want to hug him one last time.
Origins
I always knew I was adopted, and it never bothered me. But now that the end feels close, I’m curious about my roots. I’ve accepted death, but I want to know who I came from and why I was given up. I want to find my biological parents.
The City of Love
I always dreamed of visiting Paris. It seems it took a fatal diagnosis to finally get me organizing the trip. It won’t be easy—I’ll be very weak by then—but my family promised I’ll see the Eiffel Tower before I go.
The Match
I want to go to a Barcelona game. Barca has always been my favorite team, and seeing them score live would complete my life.
In the Saddle
I want to ride an elephant. I’m almost bedridden now, so traveling would be tough. My family is trying to arrange something with a nearby zoo.
The List
When I got my diagnosis, I wrote a long list and managed to cross off everything except one thing. I don’t even know what sudden impulse made me write down “kiss in the rain”, but that wish still sits at the bottom of my list. I’m in the hospital now and know I won’t go home again, but my cousin has a handsome boyfriend I know a little. He kindly offered to kiss me in the rain, and I gratefully said yes. Now we’re just waiting for a rainy day—and spring is here, so storms are coming soon.
The View
Climbing has always been my hobby—there’s nothing like standing on a mountain top and taking in the breathtaking view. I can barely move now, so no more rock climbing, but my friends are planning to take me up to my favorite peak one last time to enjoy that view.
Confession
It started with headaches, but I’ve always had headaches, so I ignored the symptom for a long time. That’s why when I finally saw a doctor, it was too late. My brain tumor can’t be operated on, and honestly, there’s not much left to do. I won’t go through painful treatments just to extend my dying by a few weeks or months.
I’ve had a good life. As a single 45-year-old woman, I don’t feel like I have many unfinished things—I’m at peace with my fate. There’s only one thing left I can’t bring myself to do: I need to tell those around me that I’m sick and won’t be here much longer. My parents are only 65 and in great health; the news will break their hearts. My sister and best friend will also be hit hard since we’re in daily contact. I’m just not ready to tell them we don’t have much time together.
