I could never completely  forget the last day of my first life. Over the years the edges would fade and it would feel more like a vivid nightmare, but it never truly left me. 

My ending was not as dramatic as that of other reincarnations stories. There was no speeding truck. No stalker desperately aiming for my love and my life. 

No my ending was far more generic, and therefore tragic. 

Three months before my death I was diagnosed with cancer. I wish I could say I took the news with grace and dignity, but sadly I was reduced to a blubbering mess. I cried and cursed everything. I was still young, just 29 years old. My life had just started and now I was told it was going to end. I never got the chance to do the things I wanted and now my time was running out. 

In the face of what society expects from a adult you tend to get lost in the requirement of everyday life. Go to school, get good grades, get a job, get a house, pay your taxes yada yada. You get the gist. You don’t have time to do what you really want because there is always tomorrow. But what happens when there is no longer a tomorrow? 

When I was faced with my very real and  imminent death, i had to make a choice. To undergo treatment that would leave me sick and with low chances of survival or decline treatment and live with rather acceptable health until my death. I chose the latter. 

So I started planning for the grand ending of my life. First I would spend time with my family, for when facing death you understand the importance of your loved ones. Movie nights, walks and chatting over a cup of tea never felt more meaningful. 

Second there where to be a sort of grand tour of Europe. I always wanted to visit the old cities of civilization of poets and philosophers, of wars and architecture. But as a metaphor for life, all my planing was for naught. 

My last day of life happened sooner than expected. 

We where sitting around the dining room table discussing how long a visit to Rome should be given - 3 or 4 days- when I collapsed. I had been feeling a headache slowly coming and as I was standing up to get a fresh cup of tea, I lost control of my body. I could sense rather than feel the spasms rocking my body after I hit the floor. The screams of my mother was the last thing I would hear. And it would haunt me for a lifetime.