When I Had Six Months to Live, I Learned Who Truly Loved Me
The doctor’s words didn’t echo. They didn’t ring or fade or blur. They landed — heavy, final, unmistakable.
“You have six months to live.”
In that moment, everything I thought mattered fell silent. The plans, the arguments, the grudges, the endless “one day” promises — all of it disappeared. What remained was one piercing question:
Who would still be there when there was nothing left to gain from me?
