Morrie Schwartz once said, "When you learn how to die, you learn how to live," and I never truly understood that saying until today.
My eyes gazed blankly at the healer, heart thudding almost painfully in my chest. I knew he wasn't done speaking, as his mouth was still forming words, yet they never really reached my ears. Instead, a hollow ringing sound echoed through my mind, nearly as ceaseless as the words, "You have cancer," repeating like a broken record in my head.
Being a half-blood, I've always been aware of the muggle illness, which plagued over thousands of people yearly. I've seen news reports on the cable television we recently invested in, I've read novels and listened to songs describing the imminent fear and dread of developing the disease; heck, I even found a few articles in the Daily Prophet, announcing the few, unlucky witches and wizards to have died because of it.
But I never really thought I'd be the one out of a million to have cancer. It had always been sort of like a fictional disease to me; it existed in the world, but I lacked the familiarity and occurrence of it, therefore it was never really planted in my mind that it was real.
Yet here I was, sitting on a numbingly uncomfortable hospital bed as the doctor attempted to console my distraught mother.
Because I have cancer.
That tiny little thought slammed right into me as the words that were repeating in my mind incessantly finally rooted in place. My lungs were constricting, and my tear ducts seemed to seep with tears, and I just couldn't breathe.
Suddenly, hands were clutching at me from everywhere. I could hear my mother's panicked, pitchy voice piercing through my ears, yet the words couldn't – no, wouldn't - register in my mind. The doctor's quickened speeches as he attempted to calm me down flew right out of the other ear.
It felt like the whole world was closing in on me, and I could do nothing to stop it.
Later that night as I sat in my dark, isolated bedroom and listened to my mother's heart-wrenching sobs from the room across, I was able to formulate coherent enough thoughts about my current situation without falling into a fully-fledged panic attack.
The fact that I was dying at the young age of 16 baffled me. I had a whole life ahead of me; passing my NEWTS, graduation Hogwarts, finding a job and getting married - maybe even start a family with the man I would eventually fall in love with.
I realized at that point that I would never be able to experience all of that. I will never experience the feeling of accomplishment at finishing my studies; I will never experience a hug shared between best friends on graduation day; I will never experience love and all of the implications that come with it.
Looking around my room at its messy state, I spotted my bookshelf filled to the brim with books I wanted to read. A pile of books, those that wouldn't fit on the shelves, sat stacked up high right next to it. I knew from my almost obsessive need to keep my books safe that there were well over one hundred books that I have yet to get lost in.
And I would never even have the chance.
My eyes teared up at the thought, and a moment later, a bout of laughter escaped my lips. It was funny how the mere thought of not getting the chance to read the many books I had upset me more than the thought of never getting a job or starting a family.
Sighing deeply, I snuggled up into my duvet and let my eyes wander the empty, dull walls of my bedroom. Usually teenagers had posters and photographs covering every inch of their walls, showcasing things they adore, and even portraying their personality. For me, though, I always found the process of personalizing my bedroom as a pointless activity and a waste of time. Walls shouldn't have to be colorful and unconventional to depict a person's character.
And for some odd reason, one I couldn't really fathom as to how I came by it, my mind unconsciously linked that thought with my life. I have always been known for my carefully calculated decisions and impeccable willpower. I was seen to many as the responsible one who never steps a toe out of line, and until that very moment, I thought I was okay with it. My life was like the walls of my bedroom; bare and practical, creating a box around its inhabitants and acting as a shell.
That's when a quote from Morrie Schwartz entered my mind; one I remembered reading many years ago in one of the muggle books I purchased during a trip to muggle London with Lily. It had stuck with me for quite a while; forcing me to contemplate what Schwartz really meant.
"When you learn how to die, you learn how to live"
And now I understood. Shwartz hadn't meant it in a way that depicts studying death in order to grasp the associations of life. No, what he meant was that once you know and accept that you're going to die, and there is no possible escape from it, you learn to live to the fullest. You enjoy and appreciate the small aspects of life, you notice and realize the little things, and you come to recognize what exactly is important to you.
Everyday people walk around thinking "that's not going to happen to me," and they manage to evade the thoughts of death by pitying those that are actually experiencing it. They never really think they might be next; some even believe they were untouchable. Yet what people don't realize is that at any moment, at any given time, something unexpected can happen; something you cannot control and cannot avoid, and suddenly, you are the person people pity.
I didn't want to be that person. I didn't want to be the person that people would symphonize, and I certainly didn't want to be known as the person who had died before she lived. I always lived life the careful, treading-in-softly way, and I never really did anything mind-blowing and unforgettable. I always avoided situations that can lead to trouble, and I always avoided things I didn't quite understand.
But not anymore, because at that point, what have I got to lose? I'd rather open my eyes to what the world was able to offer me, and appreciate the little things, than live life sleepwalking, never fully awake or aware of what's around me.
I was going to live, and I was going to enjoy, and I was going to appreciate. Most of all, though, I was going to create memories that will precede even my death.
I was going to leave my mark on this world.
This was really difficult to write. For some reason, I had the entire prologue planned out in my head, but I just wasn't able to formulate my thoughts into words. I tried my best, though, and I hope I was able to deliver (:
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