This is on the personal side of posts. I am approaching the age of 50. That’s in a few days. I am conscious on this planet for almost half a century now. As I was taking care of a few chores the other day, my mind wondered, and my brain was asked: If you were to die right now, would you have any regrets?

Somewhat in surprise, I felt I wouldn’t. I have had almost every experience I cared for having. I have created a family and contributed to the world’s population. I am passing on my DNA. I care a lot less about physical belongings. Which means, anything beyond this point, is a bonus.

We all have our survival instinct and we want to extend our lives as much as possible. Heck, if scientists stopped hiding the longevity pills behind their labs’ closed doors, I would definitely jump on the bandwagon. But as I don’t see that happening any time soon, I have to be more pragmatic.

My father passed away after living 6 years and half a century on this planet. That happened many, many years ago now. But I remember his last days. We knew things were not good. My father was a doctor, treating thousands of women with breast cancer and saving numerous of lives in his abruptly ended career. When he learned he had cancer himself, and after his surgery, he called us all to share something important. As a doctor, he knew his time was limited. His cancer was untreatable.

We gathered around him, and he said in a voice that was holding his tears:

That was the first shock. I was young, and was not prepared to lose my dad. I had so many questions, but my dad didn’t want to talk about it. I should respect his wishes, but who is going to support my selfish self?

During the next few months, my dad wanted to live as much as possible. His life passion was treating patients and helping them survive. Despite him losing a lung, he kept on performing surgeries, and curing women.

I remember him returning from work, pale, and out of breath. In pain, I reckon. But he needed to keep on working as long as he could.

This went on for a few months. I was silly, believing things were getting better, and there’s hope. Little did I know.

One day, I saw my father struggling in pain, going to my sister’s room. After a while, he called me, and asked me to drive him to his hospital (the one he worked for). He said he wanted to get a better pain killing medication, and not to worry about it.

I drove him, and entered the hospital and drove to an area doctors used to park. There was an entrance there with a long corridor that lead to the ICU area.

My father got out of the car, ask me not to worry and told me I should go home.

I remember it was dark. I was standing right outside the entrance. No one was there. The long corridor was lit in a yellow dimmed light. I saw my father walking down the corridor, towards the ICU. Slowly disappearing. His figure, emblematic. He had walked that path a million times, for a different reason.

Even at that point, I was confused, thinking we’ll meet again. It was the last day I saw him standing.

I tried to visit him in the ICU after a few days. When he saw me, he demanded I leave and never come back.

I could not understand. What was he thinking? As his son, I wanted to be by his side. I wanted to see him one more time. I didn’t know how else to support him.

It was the last time I saw him alive. He passed away a few days later.

I struggle to understand to this day. Why didn’t he want me there? Did he want to protect me? Was it that he couldn’t handle the situation emotionally? He may have not wanted me to see him in that state. I don’t know. Even now, I don’t know. I speculate. Does it matter? It may not.

My father was responsible for a large part of who I am. He bought me my first home computer in the 80s, and planted the computer programming virus in me.

My father was a hero to me despite his flaws, and he didn’t have a few of them.

After all these years, I had the need to share this here.

Be well my friends. For as long as we all have left on this planet.