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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Death · #617694
A brief glimpse into the mind of a terminally ill family man.
I sit outside my house in the dead of night, my family are asleep inside.
Thoughts are tumbling through my head, it is not easy to make sense of a day like today.

I inhale deeply on my cigarette, which somehow does not seem to pose a threat worth worrying about anymore. Oddly though, I still feel the need to hide. My wife would be mortified to find me out. I gave up a year ago.

It is days like today that are not readily acceptable to the average Joe.
I went into the Doctor's office with my whole life ahead of me. There, in that room, it was taken away.
“A brain tumor”, he said.
Simple as that. My world was destroyed by two words. Words that instil fear in the hardest of men...brain tumor.

Well, as you can imagine, I was not overjoyed.

The afternoon and evening were something of a blur to me. A whirlpool of conflicting emotions and thoughts, all fighting for attention.
Insurance, funeral, effect on the family, my children not having a father, my wife with another man, my work, leaving this life with no interesting epitaph, being forgotten, needing nicotine, oh fuck...

I am calming down a little now. Trying to be rational. The cigarette helps, though I still feel naughty.

I am a lot more together than I would have expected. Fairly lucid in fact. I must be a great actor, as my wife did not notice anything amiss.
Just how exactly are you supposed to tell the woman you love and your children that, failing divine intervention, you are going to die?

I think I need another cigarette.
Maybe I will not tell them at all. But then again I have to.
Ooh that smoke feels good.

First thing tomorrow is to make sure the insurance is all in order. I believe it is. Ever since our first child was born, my wife and I have tried to cover for any eventuality. At least that is something I can take heart from. I know the family will be financially OK.

I am a long way from acceptance yet but there is no point in denying the inevitable.

Doesn’t mean I can’t have another smoke though.

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