“I want to meet your doctor friend,” Hadley said, sitting up. “Jeremy is it?”

I nodded.

“I feel like he’s helped you, Max. I can tell⁠—no one knows you like I do.”

“He’s wonderful⁠—”

“Though I’m a bit jealous you told him before me.”

“Jealous?”

“Yes, Max, but also, I suppose, rather grateful.”

Some time later, Hadley felt sick again⁠—this time it was a headache. But after a long hot shower it went away, leaving only a deep tiredness in its place.

Then evening came. Unable to face the long corridor of night, we took one sleeping pill each, and sunk to the very bottom of sleep, as far as we could get from the surface of our lives.

1.

Lunch wasn’t bad today.

I can still eat some things. But mostly I’m fed through a needle in my arm.

It could be anytime now.

In the middle of a sentence even.

You might turn the page and find only yourself.

To be honest, I’ve often thought I simultaneously belonged somewhere else. It’s one of those things a lot of people feel but never talk about.

The first time it happened, I was four. My parents had taken me to a medieval village where actors dress in period costumes and talk about their crafts to anyone who stops to listen. There were animals, too, along with plows and carts. But it was the smell of hay baking in the sun that made me certain I was remembering something I couldn’t remember. The feelings were simply beyond anything I could express as a child. It was like the certainty of something without the memory itself⁠—a sense of being haunted.

One day people may be able to explain certain experiences like ghosts or déjà vu. But for you and me it’s like looking through a keyhole into the sun.

Hadley and Jeremy are coming later today for sure. My wife first, then Jeremy will come once his obligations at the hospital end.

You might wonder what dying people look forward to. Being visited, yes, but also being left alone⁠—though that takes a lot of practice, managing thoughts. I also meditate and I pray.

Thinking over the treasure of my life is another pleasure, raking through my best memories and sometimes coming across things I had overlooked or thought unimportant at the time. There are people I think about, too, some I’ve realized I still love but will never see again. I do wonder if some part of them will sense the moment I’m lifted from the world.

I also look forward to reassuring people it’s okay this is happening. Something beautiful even, which reminds me of a story I heard or read somewhere. I think the tale comes from India, but it might be China, or Vietnam.