… Recently, a friend of Orli's gave me a tremendous gift: the knowledge that Orli had tried to prepare herself. Four months before her death, Orli texted this friend to say she knew she would not survive. She believed she had two years left. "I'm going to die," she wrote. "But doesn't everyone? I just will die a little sooner than most. This is a great opportunity for me actually. Everyone's focused on the time they have left. They forgot to live."
That she could face what we could not is not entirely unusual. Some psychologists have pushed for allowing teens and young adults a role in determining not only the course of their care but also in how they live their days, and how they die. This population, I learned, has a strong sense of their own trajectory; they are known for trying to protect the emotional well-being of their caregivers.
Indeed, after she died, I found out that Orli had worried most about what would happen to us — Hana, Ian and me — if she were to leave. I offered her no reassurance. I didn't know these were her fears. I learned of them too late.
She and Ian spoke about death more than I did — what happens, where do we go, is there something more, will we ever see each other again? I wish I had been in those conversations. Still, I am comforted that they took place.
Everyone, even children, deserves the opportunity to sit with these questions at the end of life. It's not impossible. But to do so requires us to recognize: It's not sadness we should fear. It's regret.
https://www.nytimes.com/2024/11/25/opinion/children-cancer-grief.html?smid=nytcore-ios-share&referringSource=articleShare
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