Our Last Twelve Hours Alive
Have you heard? Moshiach is coming tomorrow! Or something like that… I passed a car today emblazoned with stickers pronouncing the inevitability of this fact. “Noah was warned…” one cautioned. Indeed.
I wonder how the thousands of people who believe this narashkiet are spending their last hours on earth…
If I got a personal message from god promising the apocalypse, I’d spend my remaining time on this planet frantically dialing my therapist, begging for a tub of Thorazine.
That said, if I knew death was coming in twelve hours, I’d like to enjoy my last hours at a delicious dinner party (menu: watermelon, white cake, rice with ketchup, burritos, cherries, salmon sushi) with the people I love and care for, exchanging our secret shames and prides and joys, exposing that which the lengthiness of life causes us to dole out slowly (if at all), and then, my last hours, in the arms of the man I love, exchanging everything we already know, which are the sweetest things between lovers, the words and touch and admissions which are so familiar, and so beloved.
What would you do if you had twelve hours left to live?Printable Version