Last Dance

Life’s taught me plenty. I've danced through years with laughter and tears and loved a lot. Men have come and gone, like seasons, each one leaving a mark, a memory, or taking a piece of my heart. But now I’m staring down the end of my road. The doctor's words hit hard. “It’s terminal," he said. “Soon, you’ll grow weak as the cancer grows and you’ll lose control of your body. We can keep you comfortable but you only have weeks left.”

I cried. Fear gripped me. I knew there wasn’t anything after this this life, just a void. I used to believe in heaven but that fell away long ago. Still, I'd been a fighter all my life, and wasn’t about to stop. I still had strength in my body and fire in my spirit.

Within a day, I’d met a man who would do just fine. He had eyes that sparkled like he knew some secret joke. He looked at me like I was still a young girl full of dreams and spunk. He didn't see the sickness, didn't know the battle I was fighting. And I, I didn't have it in me to tell him.

We got to talking over beers, and I said to him, "If you don't go after what you want, you'll never have it.” I don't know if it was the look in my eye, the steel in my voice, or the cut of my blouse, but he came back quick, "I know what I want."

That night was a blaze of glory, a final dance. He never knew, and I never told him, that each kiss was laced with goodbye, each touch a memory to hold onto when I was gone. I wanted to feel alive, to be wanted, to be seen, not as a dying woman, but as the full-blooded lover I still was inside.

So, we loved f hard that night. I didn’t feel any need for caution. Wouldn’t be carrying his child, that’s for sure. And I already had the disease that would kill me.

I cried a little when he pressed into me for what I knew would be my last time with a man. Each moment he was inside me was precious. It was like I’d never felt a man before. Knowing I was dying made everything feel new. I savored it all, the sweetness, the passion, the urgency of his desire.

After it was over, we stayed together as he grew soft inside, and I almost forgot the shadow hanging above me.

But time is a thief and my time was running out. I knew it, and I accepted it. I'd lived a life full of love, even if it was flawed. And my last love affair was a tribute to the loved I’d had. I'd go out with my heart beating strong and the taste of love still on my lips.

So, to that man that saw me not as a dying woman but as a flame still burning bright, I say thank you. Thank you for giving me one last dance, for making me feel desired, for letting me be just a woman, not a patient, not a case, not a dying thing. Thank you for being my last love in a book filled with many stories.