The young adults
I am old enough to occasionally read the obituaries in Adresseavisen, (I admit it). An overview, mostly to see if there is anyone I know by name who is dead. Fortunately, I rarely see anyone from my own generation who has died. But then there are the others: this time it was a nineteen-year-old girl named Vilde. I checked the Facebook profile and understood that the girl died of cancer. After finding a blog address, I visited her blog. There she told that she had developed acute lymphocytic leukemia.
Between pictures of friends staying at the hospital, with stories about bun baking with aunts and visits to a sister and a trip home to the place she lived, it occurred to me that the road eventually ended.
The only time this cheerful girl, clearly marked by the disease, wrote something that could be interpreted as she giving up was in the penultimate post where she asked that people no longer wrote or told her that they wanted a good recovery for her.
She was not going to get better.
The next day she went home and got to celebrate Easter there.
The update of the blog continued until April 2, 2015. Vilde became only nineteen years old.
I was touched by her story, which unfortunately is one of many. She made an impression on me and I will not forget her.
(Or how to be a freaking awesome 150 year old human) Today I am going to talk about death. And even though it sounds morbid,
Welcome to the first week of the new year. It’s 2022 and if you like me, it still feels like 2019 was last year. Talk