Last Thoughts

I am told I am dying… I am not angry or bitter. I am in surprisingly good spirits. I joke, I laugh. It has not affected me in the sense that I’m depressed. I’ve even been told off for not being depressed.

I do have my days of sadness—but not depressant sadness—a sort of pleasant peculiar sadness more filled with warm sort of love and tenderness, like a soft rain. How marvellous. My spirit you see is very strong at the moment. I can’t be bothered to be ill. I am determined. My resilience is like the iron hand in the velvet glove. Like a running gushing brook flowing within me. Elusive, magical, enchanting.

I will go to God. Whatever time I die I will go to God… I love people, I care for them. But I am me. I am mortal. I am only eighteen years old. Such a faith, such a love! It something that I shall be able to treasure and uphold all my life long. No one can ever take it from me. I will have it forever. For as long as I live and then until eternity. It will only be in death that I will truly live.

I see visions of darkness, winding pathways to a bright effervescent light.  I see meadows, lush, green, mellow. I see these pictures as others would see their own memories… I see castles, children playing, sun, mountains, space, everything. Images of life. How can I see all this and be depressed, upset, alone? Why should I be miserable when I need not be? At least I am happy. I would do anything for my friends.

I have no fear. It is not anything I have done. I have not committed a crime so terrible that God decreed I must die.  That is not my belief. It is Love that gave me this illness. Love. A special gift has been given. I must be special to cope with it. My life has been blessed, enchanted, hanging in the balance of yesterday, today—and forever.

I am the luckiest woman in the world… I am not at all brave. I am terrified. And then I think of God and his warmth glows within me like a lukewarm sponge of peace and love.

Sing my candle, my gentle soul. The way is calling, the dreams are calling. The magic and spirit of eternity predestine your life. Shoulder the courage within you, breathe with the essence of life, with the mist of truth. Dance forever onward in the darkness, into the darkness… My love goes with you… even in that darkness…

 

From Jane’s diary, November 1992 to March 1993.

© Jane Rita O’Shaughnessy 1993; 2021