I personally never made such a list before, but I also never felt a reason to, since I felt pretty secure I wasn't in any immediate danger of dying and I had time. But the reality is, none of us really have time. We never know if we'll have a brain aneurysm in our sleep tonight, or get hit by a bus or struck by lightning. You never know if you'll get a cough tomorrow, and be told three weeks later, you have terminal cancer. So basically, none of us has the time. Not really. We never know when our number will come up.
But I made a friend about six months ago who used to live in the nursing home I worked at. But he wasn't old. He was barely 50. And he was there because he'd survived cancer, and was pretty healthy and happy, but basically had no where else to live, so because he also had diabetes, somehow he was left living in this facility. He said it was better than being homeless. But he was a really funny and nice person. We spent a lot of time together talking about life and love and books and movies and dating and family and music. You name it. We talked about it. And even though I was not in charge of watching him, I was in charge of his roommate, who didn't speak and often fell asleep for hours, leaving me tons of time to just chat with Tim.
Then one day, he didn't look so good. I asked how he felt and he said crappy. But he thought it was just a flu bug. I had the next two days off, then came back, and his bed was empty, but all his things were there. I asked about him and was told he was in the hospital but would be back. They said not to worry, he'd be fine. So I didn't worry. I figured he really would be fine, since he'd never once appeared sick to me at all. But when he did come back, it wasn't good. He was in congestive heart failure, and no one really knew how or why it happened so suddenly. But Tim told me he was good to go for at least six months. That's what the doctors told him, as a worst case scenario. They said he could get better and be fine too. But they did warn him, it might be as little as six months if he didn't respond to treatment.
I was incredibly saddened by this news, but Tim and I both believed he'd get better. He was only 50. He'd already beat cancer. Of course he was going to be okay. But about a week after he got back from the hospital, it was clear to me he wasn't going to be alright. And he asked me to help him make a Bucket List. He had at least six months, and I promised him I'd make at least one of his dreams come true. Of course I didn't know what the dreams were, but I still promised. And when we sat outside and began the list, it was hard not to cry. Because this man had simple dreams. Dreams that for some people wouldn't even be dreams at all. Just a part of their lives.
But Tim wanted to see the ocean, because he'd never been there. He wanted to ride a roller coaster, because he'd never been to a theme park before. He wanted to fly in an airplane, because his entire life, he'd never done it. He wanted a road trip across the country in a convertible. He wanted to be intimate with a woman again, because his cancer treatments had left him unable to have sex anymore. But all he wanted was the intimacy and the touch and feeling desired again. He wanted to have a drink in a bar, and go to an outdoor concert. He wanted to go to a movie theater, because he hadn't been in many, many years. He wanted to dance in a fountain. He wanted to be hugged by a pretty woman.
The list stopped there. We never got to finish. It was no secret to me or any of the staff that Tim liked me. He had a little crush. And I promised him I'd give him at least one wish off his list. So I hugged him tightly and told him I cared. And the next morning I got to work, I found out he'd died around 3am. I was the only person there who actually cried about it. Everyone else just moved along, and by the end of that working day, all his stuff was gone and shoved into storage until some family member got it, or else it'd just be thrown away or donated to someone else. His entire life was in those boxes they just carelessly dragged them off and shoved them in a dank storage locker. No one cared but me. He didn't have family. He never married. Had no children. And on his last full day on this earth, I was everything to him. There was no one else. But at least I gave him one wish. It was the best I could do since he didn't give me much time to work on it.
It's been about two months now since he died, but I still think of him. He wasn't part of my job. He was my friend. And he proved to me how quickly your time can be up. So fast, he didn't even finish writing his Bucket List, much less doing any of the things on it. So maybe we should all have one? Do any of you have one? I'm thinking that I might make one, because you just never know...
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