Sarah and I had a lot of good times. We were in love. I wanted to marry her, but the last time I saw her I had a feeling something was wrong. She met me at O’Brien’s Coffee House and I could see something was wrong with her that she was trying to hide from me.
I got worried for her and said, “Are you okay?”
“It’s nice out today,” she said, sitting down across from me.
“It is nice, but what’s the matter?” I said. I wondered how bad the thing was she was hiding.
Then she cried and blurted out, “I’ve just been diagnosed with breast cancer and I may not have long to live.”
My heart sank. “I’m so sorry. What can I do to help you?” I said.
“I’m too depressed to say anything else about it, and I don’t want to die at age 27,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes with a napkin.
“Maybe you’ll survive it. I’ve read there are new cancer treatments discovered every day and cancers that killed people in the past can be healed now,” I said.
Tearfully, she said, “I just can’t talk about it, and I have to get going. I’m sorry but I need to be alone.”
Respecting her wishes, I didn’t push things.
“Okay,” I said, “But call me when you feel up to it.”
Days later, Sarah called me.
In a trembling voice, she said, “I’m sorry. I’m going to have to stop seeing you. I don’t want to burden you with this. The cancer is spreading throughout my body, and based on what I’ve been told and read, I’m sure I’m going to die in a few months.”
I tried to talk her into not leaving me at a time when she needed me the most, at a time when I wanted to be there for her, but she wouldn’t relent.
And as she predicted, she died three months later. My heart and my life were shattered. I didn’t want to live. In a delusional moment, I thought if I killed myself, I’d be with Sarah forever. In a trance-like state, I drifted to my bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. I grabbed a bottle of aspirins out of the cabinet, opened the bottle, and poured half the aspirins out of the bottle and into my hand.
Just as I was about to swallow them, Sarah’s spirit appeared inside my mind like seeing her on a small TV screen. I was a little startled at first but felt profound peace seconds later. She looked ethereal but more beautiful than when she was alive, and she seemed blissfully happy. I remember thinking she looked angelic. Then I thought about how much I missed her and tears trickled down my face.
She smiled, blew a kiss, and said to me, “Don’t do it, my Love. Be patient. We’ll be together again soon.” Then she faded away into a luminous, white light, and I remember saying, “Come back. Come back,” and sobbing because I missed her so much.
It’s been three months since Sarah’s visit from the afterlife. I’ve been diagnosed with lung cancer that is spreading to other organs. If all goes miraculously well, supposedly, I could live five more years. But based on what Sarah said about us being together again, now I know what she said was true. I know I’ll be dead soon and with her forever.
Bob Boyd