I Never Thought I Would Die

I Never Thought I Would Die

The sun was setting, bathing the hills in hues of crimson and gold, and as I sat on the worn wooden porch of my family’s old cabin, I felt a strange sense of tranquility suffuse my being. It was a moment I had not anticipated feeling again, yet here I was, a man in his forties, looking over the familiar landscape of my childhood, preparing to celebrate my birthday in a way I had not done in years. However, a dozen thoughts swirled in my mind as I fidgeted with the glass of whiskey in my hand.

I never thought I would die.

That phrase had danced through my mind since I was a child, a silent anthem of my invincibility. Time felt like an endless stream—years rolled by, my twenties melted into thirties, friends came and went, all while I remained, steadfast and unyielding. I had been reckless, taking unnecessary risks: surfing during storms, pushing my body to the edge during mountain biking, challenging wild animals at parks. Always, I emerged unscathed. My youthful bravado had cemented the belief that I was untouchable, and perhaps it had led me to neglect the fragility of life.

And so, I found myself on this porch, the distant laughter of my friends echoing like an old song. They were setting up for the gathering ahead; candles, white noise of joyous chatter filling the air. But tonight was different. A weight sat upon my chest, a whisper from the universe reminding me that I was neither eternal nor invincible. Somewhere deep down, I knew tonight might shatter the illusion I had clung to for so long.

The door creaked open, and my sister Jenna stepped out, her brightly lit smile powerful enough to momentarily chase away my shadows.

“Hey, you! Come on, stop brooding! It’s your birthday!” she teased, nudging my shoulder. “We need you to blow out those candles. Don’t you want to look at their faces lighting up when you make that ridiculous wish?”

“Wish?” I smirked, shaking my head. “I think I’ve wished enough over the years. Maybe it’s time I just counted my blessings instead.”

“That’s the spirit!” she said, cheerfully oblivious to the storm brewing within me. “Now, grab your drink and let’s go inside. We can’t celebrate the greatest person in the world sitting here looking like a sad puppy.”

I laughed, more to play along than join in the mirth. As the night rippled on—a well-worn cycle of barbecue smoke, laughter, and music—my friends gathered around the table, and the candles flickered to life, casting dancing shadows across their faces.

“Make a wish!” Jenna urged, pushing a slice of cake in front of me. Her possessive nature over the ceremonial aspects of my birthday forced me to participate. Closing my eyes, I surrendered to the ritual of desire. The longing that came to the surface was simple: to wake up tomorrow and find this all still intact—friends laughing, cake crumbs on denim, and the warmth of family filling the voids I often felt alone.

And yet, the underlying current of my own mortality snaked through the celebrations, a persistent reminder that we are just flickering flames in an unpredictable storm. As I blew out the candles, the flame's dance flickered, and a deep uncertainty coursed through my veins.

Later, as the party waned and my friends slowly drifted away into their own lives, I found myself wandering the woods behind the cabin. I needed refuge, a place to confront the whispers rising like shadowy specters—dark reminders of what lurked beneath the surface. I stepped lightly beneath the towering pines, the air thick with the smell of earth and the soft chorus of nocturnal creatures.

But then, without an inkling of warning, the ground shifted beneath my feet, and I felt myself tumbling, falling deeper into the unknown. My world spun, colors cascading in a dizzying whirl until I landed hard against the rough textile of nature—a deep thud that resonated in my bones.

The forest grew silent, and I lay still, disbelief pulling me into a realm of dread-tinged clarity. I felt pain bloom around my ankle—sharp and anguished. Panic surged as the reality set in: something was wrong. The isolation sank into my senses, and all at once, I was confronted with what I had pushed aside for so long.

I never thought I would die… until that very moment.

It was the stark realization that any semblance of control I believed I possessed was an illusion. I had gambled with life and had convinced myself of my durability, but now, lying in the darkness, fear washed over me. Memories rushed back—my mother’s laughter, childhood adventures, nights spent racing under star-speckled skies, and words unsaid in the rush of life. It whispered in my heart, an old fear, always lurking, but now it echoed louder than ever.

I gritted my teeth against the pain that pulsed from my ankle up through my leg. Every breath felt laborious as if I were fighting against my own fate. But within that chaos, I felt clarity—my connection to life had always been forged in my reckless pursuits, yet here, amidst the trees and night sky, I felt an unexpected yearning to tether myself back to the people I loved.

A thought flickered in the back of my mind. How many moments had I brushed aside in my quest for thrill? How many times had I taken for granted that tomorrow was always assured?

With great effort, I pulled myself into a seated position, terror coursing through my veins. The faint echo of laughter from the cabin danced on the edges of my consciousness, and I realized I needed to reach them. Panic fueled my efforts as I pushed myself to crawl, feeling the grit of the earth beneath my palms, dragging myself through the bitterness of reality—a desperate battle against the silence that threatened to engulf me.

Just when I thought the weight of fear might finish me, I heard a familiar voice calling my name into the night, achingly sweet and filled with urgency.

“Derek! Where are you?” Jenna’s voice cut through the depths, pulling me back to the present. The soft glow of a flashlight began weaving through the trees, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding.

“We’re here! I’m here!” I rasped, my heart racing with each echoing beat, relief flooding me as my sister’s light broke into the shadows.

Moments later, she was beside me, her face pale with worry. The weight of my mortality hung heavily between us, but in her eyes, I recognized forgiveness and reassurance.

“I thought I lost you,” she whispered, relief spilling forth in a flood, and in that moment, I felt the fragile thread of life strengthen.

So I celebrated another year with the realization, bitter yet sweet, that no more reckless eradication of life was needed. I wasn't invincible, but I was loved. I didn’t know how long I had, but the flicker of existence was precious. As Jenna wrapped her arm around me, pulling me up, we made our way back through the woods—an introduction to a new beginning, and I learned the deeper wisdom utterly lost in my bravado: life was beautiful in its unpredictability, and every moment mattered.

Maybe I was not entirely ready to face death, but perhaps, finally, I was prepared to wholeheartedly embrace life.