I think I'm finally at a place or point in my life where I'm sincerely alright with letting go - PTSD has made life a living hell, yes. And being sick these past 6 months has been brutal. If I catch myself in the mirror, I don't recognize the face staring back. Purple streaks under my eyes - gaunt.
That said, four decades has been more than enough time for me. I think of my former brother in law; he was such a great guy, studying marine biology in Greece. Around Christmas time many years back, he developed a cough and it persisted to the point the doctors thought he had tuberculosis. It turned out he, at the age of 26, had a tumor on his heart which was cancer and nothing could be done. He died on my former mother in laws birthday.
Coughing in December, and he was gone by April. If I could've given him my life, my organs, anything to have him back again, I would. I shouldn't be here, he should. He didn't know he was going to die. At the end, he could barely talk, and was using a note pad to ask questions, etc.
The last question he asked was "When will I wake up?"