Are You Afraid to Die?

 So, a couple weeks ago, I read this article.  Obviously, it touched me.  the 48-year-old me can't imagine being 6 and wrapping my head around that I'm going to die from cancer!  That's NOT supposed to happen, but I know it does.  Hell, when I was 6, we moved from MI to TX, I met my friend, Carter, who I went to school (we were part of the first group of crip kids with my big brother, Joey, to be mainstreamed to public school) with until his fam had to move to Lubbock in 3rd grade. We briefly reconnected in '09.

Carter, me, and Joey

I met Noe in 3rd, which totally changed my outlook on life.  Yes, I know I've written about death a few times here, but this's stuck with me, so I'm running with it.

I pretty much knew from day 1 Noe was going to die before me.  We'd met at the CP Center getting therapy, and the director, Crawford, told me and why.  Of course, wrapping my head around the prospect was hard, because after all, only OLD people die like my grandpa before we moved here.

June '91, it came.  I was there that day hanging at his house.  He was on oxygen full-time by then...since he'd gone to the hospital for the first time the night the Gulf War started.  He was antsy, pulling on his O2 tube, saying he was having trouble breathing.  His mom, Gloria, called 911 and they came.

Here's the point of today's post...

When the ambulance came, Noe wouldn't let anyone go with him, not even Gloria.  I told him I'd see him tomorrow since it was getting late...he kinda shrugged...that should've been my red flag. Our maid/babysitter came to get me a little after he left.  Wee got home the same time Dad was getting off the phone.  It was Mom at the hospital (she was Noe's doctor) telling Dad Noe died.  I knew.  I wailed.

Here's the thing...

He knew he was going to die.  He didn't want about to have to experience him dying.  When the EMTs were wheeling him out, he wasn't making a scene or anything.  He was just like Let's go.  That takes balls, dying with dignity.  I grew into my skin for the first time that summer.  Being a crip means nothing, it is what it is.  Age's just a number, I wear my age like a badge, because I know too many people who didn't make it.  We were 14.

So, when I read the article about little Joules and her TikTok journey with her cancer.  I was like Damn as I was reading through tears.  Of course, I've read someone knew they were dying, so they used their socials to document their journeys including a vlog for when they die...she's the youngest.  This courage has me in awe.

'Til next time,

Peace.