When Deathbed Literature began, we wanted to reprint notes of people from all walks of life, so we could see the different perspectives people had upon their death. We could see who thought about their own legacy and those who thought about the well being of others. Some lived with regret, and some did not.
At first, we found this to be an interesting category for everyone to read. However, after awhile each letter became redundant. So we’ve now opened this up to be a community category. We want you, our community, to share with us your deathbed letter. Yes, we want you to write your own letter about your life as if you were on your deathbed. It can be at the end of your life right now, or you can pretend you made it to the age of 107 and tell us what you would think about your life at that moment of time. You can send us your letters at firstname.lastname@example.org
The below letter is the first of our community submitted letters, and it’s beautifully written. We thank jonny for being so open and for sharing her life with us all.
A Long Dead Gaze
I never owned a pair of spectacles. I never needed to see more clearly. I analyzed life to the fullest like pondering particles under a scope. I can hear the alarms ringing. By the time they crash through the doors I’ll be outside my body, caught up in pain no more.
I have few regrets though I promise I’ll rear up out of my coffin if my brother doesn’t follow his heart, if my best friend doesn’t forgive me for missing her party.
Now, pour a couple pints for my twenty seven years and then let the roast commence. Celebrate my flaws as it is true love. Lest we forget humour as it is mourner’s ally. And at the very moment spaces seem empty without me, remember I dwell in the sky and the calla lilies.
The funeral is not to be regal, in true Irish form, I suggest plenty of laughter. If there are tears, let them fall on good food and good repartee.
I am beaming down on you, in the cold of night and in the darkest of times. My life went swiftly and intensely, and so I promise my resin spirit longevity. My fibers tarnished but good intentioned and of bold stock, I believe I will guard all that has guarded forgiven.
With outstretched hands and a long dead gaze I insist you embark on the next adventure with tenacity and elan. You are, in my mind, as it is Whitman, multitudes. That much remains clear.
My true loves and foes, my slack stretched to the limit this time and I bid you adieu. The truth is, twenty seven isn’t an envious year nor is it an old one, but it is enough. Please cherish life, make it your own, and don’t cry for me- you are never alone.
With great adoration and admiration, jonny.
This post was created with the help of Grammarly.