Danielle Kabos in her Normandie garden: “It takes a lot of mental strength not to drive yourself nuts,” she says. Photograph: Annemique de Kroon.
In last week’s newsletter, in aid of a story I’m researching, I asked you to tell me about what arrangements you might (or might not have) made for the end of your life. Advanced health care directives, wills, funeral instructions, last-hurrah-party instructions, burial/burning instructions … bracing life admin of that nature.
A few of you emailed to fill me in on your thinking on the matter (thank you). And, in answer to the poll I posted and its more specific question – “Have you documented your wishes for serious illness, incapacity or end-of-life care?” … Well, you (and me too) have room for improvement. Only about 20% of you have fully documented your wishes. Another 32% have either made some plans or told your families what it is that you desire. 37% of you keep meaning to get organised (yep, me too). 11% of you (and me too) are in complete denial. Don’t want to think about it. Fuck off and leave me alone.
And someone else emailed me, a brilliant Australian-born reader of Vamp who lives in rural Normandie. Her note stopped me in my tracks, lodged itself in my mind. I have carried it with me all week.
Danielle Kabos is 54 and living with stage 4 colon cancer.
Her words are funny, devastating, irreverent and full of joy. I have found myself returning to them over and again this week. (With a big birthday looming, these are subjects weighing heavily on my mind. Perhaps you too?)
How can we live when we know we are dying?
Danielle, I feel, has dived into the heart of things and, with her permission, I’m sharing her email to me in full below.
Her words are about dying, but more than that, they’re about continuing to live:
Comments
Nothing yet. Say the first thing.
Sign in to join the conversation.