“If you are reading this…” — that seems to be how such letters usually begin, right? As a child, I loved all kinds of melodramas. The ones where love defies a serious illness, where at the end a doctor appears in the corridor, unable to meet anyone’s eyes, shaking their head in resignation. And then — the funeral, grieving relatives, a sea of flowers, farewell speeches, and notes saying, “if you are reading this, it means…”. It all seemed romantic and proper to me.
Then I grew up. And the thought that my life could end just like that, in a melodramatic way, began to frighten me. Sweaty intensive care doctors breaking ribs trying to restart a heart, relatives fainting — all of that became terrifying. For myself, for the person I am now — I want a different kind of departure.
A body in a coffin covered with flowers… no! First of all, I want my favorite ripped jeans and my T-shirt with the words “RIDE TILL THE END” to be visible. When I bought it, I already knew: I wouldn’t just wear it in life — I would set off for the next world in it. And secondly — for a large part of my life I was involved in charity work. Medical charity — that’s just how it happened; it’s closer to my heart. I help raise money so that someone can get their chance at life. Or at least some relief. These chances cost money. Very specific amounts. Some need thousands, others millions of hryvnias. And to give people their chances, we have to ask others: “please help, please donate.”
I don’t like writing about “giving up your morning cup of coffee” — calling people to asceticism is not my style. But when it comes to me personally, I have the right to insist: don’t turn my coffin into a flower meadow, don’t ruin the image. Whatever you were planning to spend on bouquets, wreaths, and the rest — put it in an envelope instead. What’s inside it will become a chance for someone who is still alive.
They say that in Britain, benches are installed in parks in memory of the deceased. A socially useful kind of remembrance. But better a bench in a park than a piece of granite in a cemetery. And even better — some useful equipment for a hospice or for a specific patient with a palliative diagnosis.
To die from illness is most often neither sudden nor immediate. It is long. And expensive. But every person deserves to complete their earthly journey with dignity.
And you remain here in this world — where people so desperately need to help one another. Where the only way to survive is shoulder to shoulder, standing against hardship.
I have done my part. And you, it seems, still have a lot of work ahead.
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Ira wrote this letter almost a year earlier. Even then, everything was becoming extremely difficult (we thought — extremely), and the moment seemed close. In reality, there was still another year ahead, each day growing harder, but until the very last day when it was physically possible, Ira continued to live fully and to work. Her final hours in complete clarity of mind were not spent with her family — she devoted them to our most complex palliative patients at that time, making sure to guide me on what and how to do in order to help those people.
She regretted that she wouldn’t be able to troll those who would begin praising her, that she wouldn’t see the reaction to her letter and what might be achieved thanks solely to her — the words she left to us. Though I always argued with her about this: I think, I am sure — she will see everything. (Ailen)
Iryna Havrysheva passed away on the morning of January 9, 2016. The Pterodactyl became truly free… (Mariia Ailen)
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