The time is 4:30 am on May 22, 2023. I woke up in bed. I wasn’t sure why I got up so early, but something was off. My body felt funny, strange, weird, but my mind was placidly calm. I tried to get up and head to the bathroom. I stumbled but set myself against the walls and used my arms to get down the hallway. When I made it to the bathroom, the room started to wobble. I reached for the sink and propped myself up. My legs felt like toothpicks and I noticed I was dragging my right leg.

I looked into the mirror and saw what resembled a corpse. Vividly. My skin had turned gray and it seemed to sag on my gaunt face. I was barely breathing, extremely dizzy, and incredibly weak. I looked away from the mirror and down at my hands to see if the gray color I was seeing in the mirror was just a haluncination. It wasn’t. It was then that the realization came to pass, I’m dying.

At that moment I felt why my mind was so placidly calm. When you are dying, you can feel it, your body and mind know what is happening, but somehow your personality, your ego, is the last to know. I was experiencing something akin to the whispers you hear coming from nursing homes and hospitals about ederly realtives and friends. The patient knows when they are leaving. Your body and mind are already programmed for the process. You are just along for the ride.

I didn’t feel any regrets, fear, or any emotion that clinged to life. I wasn’t sad, or mad, or anything really. I didn’t think of my dog, or any family, or friends. All of that was somehow behind me. It was just me and whatever process I was going to go through. It was just pure acceptance. I’m going to die. I took one last look in the mirror and the next thing I know, it was black.