‘Will You Stay With Me Until I Die?’

“Then I guess we’re fellow time travelers in here,” Julie said.

“We are,” I said. “Even when you’re resting.”

Another time, Julie broke our silence to tell me that her husband thought she was being a deathzilla — going crazy with the death-party planning, the way some brides become bridezillas with their weddings. She’d even hired a party planner to help carry out her vision, and her husband, despite his initial discomfort, was now fully onboard.

When I asked what she wanted that day to be like, she grinned. “Well, I’d rather not be dead that day,” she said. Then she said she liked the idea of a “celebration of life,” which the party planner told her was all the rage, but didn’t like the message that came with it.

“It’s a funeral, for God’s sake,” Julie said. “All these people in my cancer group say, ‘I want people to celebrate! I don’t want people to be sad.’ And I’m like, ‘Why not? You died!’”

“This might sound crazy,” she said, “but I know that I’ll hear your voice after I die — that I’ll hear you wherever I am.” She said she believed she’d hear the voices of those she loved.

“I would never say this if I weren’t dying,” she added quietly, suddenly shy for the first time since I had met her, “but I include you in those I love.”