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性 別: 男
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註冊時間: 2011/04/14
總發文數: 138
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發表於 2011/05/11 20:30 |
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本篇已由"V女"給予額外獎勵:100奧索幣
加幣原因:花時間PO文,共同分享!
加拿大一名罹患癌症男子,死前在部落格留言,跟這個世界告別,吸引3百萬網友爭相閱讀。
這名已婚男子叫米勒,41歲,2007年被診斷罹患大腸直腸癌後,一直寫部落格,把病情和自己如何跟癌症奮鬥的過程,都詳細紀錄下來。5月4號,米勒過世當天,他也發出最後一篇文章,題目是(最後po文)。這篇文章很感人,吸引3百萬網友瀏覽,還有140多人留言。
最後po文
通過 德里克 在 2011年5月4日上午07點51分
這就是。 我死了,這是我的最後一篇文章到我的博客。 在之前,我問,一旦我的身體終於從關閉的懲罰我的癌症,那麼我的家人和朋友準備發布這個消息,我寫,第一部分的過程中把這個網站從一個積極的存檔。
如果你了解我的人在現實生活中,你可能聽到這個消息已經從另一個來源,但是無論你發現了,認為這是一個確認:我出生於69年6月30日在加拿大溫哥華,我就死在伯納比上2011年5月3日,41歲,從第4階段的並發症轉移性大腸癌。 我們 都知道 這是未來。
這包括我的家人和朋友,和我的父母Hilkka和 於爾根卡爾 。 我的女兒 勞倫 ,11歲,與 濱海 ,誰的13個,有被稱為多,我們可以告訴他們,因為我第一次發現我得了癌症。 這已經成為他們生活的一部分,唉。
艾爾德里
當然,它包含了我的妻子 艾爾德里 (姓希斯洛普)。 地鐵都出生在溫哥華,我們從不同的高中畢業,於1986年,不列顛哥倫比亞大學學習生物學,在那裡我們會見了'88。 在暑期打工的工作作為公園博物那年,我翻轉獨木舟划槳的空氣和我,我們不得不推到岸邊。
我們分享了一些類,然後失去了聯繫。 但數年後,在1994年,我還在工作在校園裡。 艾爾德里發現我的名字,給我寫了一封信,是的! 紙!和最終(我想成為一個全職的音樂家,所以混亂約)我說她回來。 從這樣一個花園盛開的種子:這是3月'94,'95和八月,我們結婚了。 我從來沒有第二想法,因為我們一直很好在一起,通過惡化,善惡和偉大。
不過,我不認為我們在一起的時間會這麼短:23年後我們第一次會議( 金加克里克地區公園 ,我敢肯定),直到我死? 不夠。 還遠遠不夠。
什麼是在結束
我還沒有一個更好的地方,還是更糟之一。 我沒有去任何地方,因為 德里克 不存在 了。 只要我的身體停止運作,在我的大腦的神經元停止射擊,我犯了一個明顯的轉變:從一個活的有機體到一具屍體,像一朵花或一個鼠標,沒能透過一個特別寒冷的夜晚。 有證據清楚,一旦我死了,一切都結束了。
所以我不怕死亡本身的時刻和以後又來了什麼,這是(是)什麼。 像我一樣,一直以來,我仍然有點害怕的 過程中 死亡,越來越虛弱和疲勞,疼痛,變得越來越少了自己,因為我到了那裡。 我很幸運,我的智力大多未受影響了數月和數年才結束,沒有任何跡象癌症,我的大腦,據我或其他人知道。
作為一個孩子,當我第一次學會了足夠減法,我想通了幾歲,我會在2000年的重要的一年。 答案是31,這似乎很老。 事實上,到那時我31我已經結婚並有兩個女兒,我正在為一個技術作家和網站在計算機行業的傢伙。 漂亮長大了,我猜。
然而,有更多的到來。 我還沒有開始這個博客,最近把 10歲。 我還沒有回來打鼓與我的樂隊,也不是我一個播客(因為沒有播客,也不是iPod也如此)。 在技術人員的土地,谷歌是耳目一新,蘋果仍然是“陷入困境,”微軟是大和負責,和Facebook和Twitter了幾十年,從現有的一切。 火星漫遊者 的精神 和 機遇 是三年遠離發射,而 卡西尼,惠更斯 探測器不太中途土星。 人類基因組還沒有完全被映射呢。
世界貿易中心大樓依然站在紐約市。 讓克雷蒂安總理仍然是加拿大,比爾克林頓總統在美國,托尼布萊爾首相在英國的,而薩達姆侯賽因胡斯尼穆巴拉克,金正日,本阿里和卡扎菲卡扎菲舉行的伊拉克政權,埃及,北韓國,突尼斯和利比亞。
2000年在我家,我的表妹就不會再有一個孩子四年。 我的另一個表弟在她的關係很早就與該名男子是誰現在她的丈夫。 索尼婭,我與他母親一生的朋友(自從他們都是九),還活著。 所以,是 我的大間 ,我父親的母親,誰當時90歲。 既不是我的妻子和我曾經需要長期住院治療,還沒有。 無論我們的孩子在外面的尿布,更不用說拍照,寫故事,騎自行車和馬匹,張貼在Facebook,或outgrowing她母親的鞋碼。 我們沒有狗。
我也沒有得癌症。 我不知道我會得到它,肯定不會在未來十年,或者它會殺了我。
錯過了
為什麼我提這些東西? 因為我已經認識到,在任何時間,我可以哀嘆什麼,我會永遠不會知道,但仍讓我不後悔我在哪裡。 我本來可以在2000年去世(在一個“老”31)和我的生活一直很滿意:我的驚人的妻子,我的偉大的孩子,一個有趣的工作,我很喜歡和愛好。 不過,我已經錯過了許多東西。
現在,很多事會發生沒有我。 正如我寫了這個,我幾乎不知道其中大多數甚至可能會產生。 世界會怎樣盡快像2021年,或遲至2060年,當我將是91,我的年齡大間達成的? 什麼新的,我們才會知道? 國家和人民將如何改變? 我們將如何溝通和走動? 人將我們欽佩,或鄙視?
什麼做我的妻子空氣? 我的女兒瑪麗娜和洛洛? 他們將有什麼影響,他們將如何花費他們的時間和謀生? 我的孩子將自己的孩子? 孫子女? 將有部分我覺得他們的生活很難理解的是什麼?
怎麼知道,現在我已經死了
不可能有今天的答案。 雖然我還活著寫這篇,我很傷心知道我會懷念這一切,而不是因為我將無法看到它們,但由於航空,碼頭,和勞倫不會有我在這裡支持他們的努力。
事實證明,任何人都無法想像的真的來在我們的生活。 我們可以計劃,做什麼我們享受,但我們不能指望我們的計劃制定。 其中有些人可能會,而最有可能不會。 發明和創意將會出現,而事件將會發生,我們不可能預見。 這既不壞也不好,但它是真實的。
我認為並希望這就是我的女兒可以從我的疾病和死亡。 ,而我的美妙,神奇的妻子艾爾德里可以看到太多。 這並不是說他們可能死於任何一天,但他們應該追求他們享受,並激發他們的思想是什麼,盡可能地,這樣他們可以準備的機會,也沒有失望的事情時,橫著走,因為他們肯定會這麼做。
我也很幸運的。 我從來沒有揣摩我的下一頓飯從哪裡來。 我從來沒有擔心外國軍隊會在夜間用砍刀或機槍殺死或傷害我的家人。 我從來沒有跑,我的生活(有什麼地方我從來沒有現在這樣)。 可悲的是,這些都是一些人每天必須做的現在。
一個奇妙的地方
這個世界,甚至整個宇宙,是一個美麗,驚人的,奇妙的地方。 總是有更多的了解。 我不回頭後悔任何事情,我希望我的家人能夠找到一種方式來這樣做。
什麼是真正的是,我愛他們。 勞倫和匡,你自己成熟,成為多年來,要知道我愛你,所以總是盡力做一個好父親。
艾爾德里,你是我最好的朋友和我最親密的聯繫。 我不知道我們會一直好像沒有對方,但我認為世界將是一個貧窮的地方。 我深愛你,我愛你,我愛你,我愛你。
以下是他的部落格
http://www.penmachine.com/2011/05/the-last-post
以下是原文:
The last post
By Derek on May 4, 2011 7:51 AM | 143 Comments | No TrackBacks
Here it is. I'm dead, and this is my last post to my blog. In advance, I asked that once my body finally shut down from the punishments of my cancer, then my family and friends publish this prepared message I wrote—the first part of the process of turning this from an active website to an archive.
If you knew me at all in real life, you probably heard the news already from another source, but however you found out, consider this a confirmation: I was born on June 30, 1969 in Vancouver, Canada, and I died in Burnaby on May 3, 2011, age 41, of complications from stage 4 metastatic colorectal cancer. We all knew this was coming.
That includes my family and friends, and my parents Hilkka and Juergen Karl. My daughters Lauren, age 11, and Marina, who's 13, have known as much as we could tell them since I first found I had cancer. It's become part of their lives, alas.
Airdrie
Of course it includes my wife Airdrie (née Hislop). Both born in Metro Vancouver, we graduated from different high schools in 1986 and studied Biology at UBC, where we met in '88. At a summer job working as park naturalists that year, I flipped the canoe Air and I were paddling and we had to push it to shore.
We shared some classes, then lost touch. But a few years later, in 1994, I was still working on campus. Airdrie spotted my name and wrote me a letter—yes! paper!—and eventually (I was trying to be a full-time musician, so chaos was about) I wrote her back. From such seeds a garden blooms: it was March '94, and by August '95 we were married. I have never had second thoughts, because we have always been good together, through worse and bad and good and great.
However, I didn't think our time together would be so short: 23 years from our first meeting (at Kanaka Creek Regional Park, I'm pretty sure) until I died? Not enough. Not nearly enough.
What was at the end
I haven't gone to a better place, or a worse one. I haven't gone anyplace, because Derek doesn't exist anymore. As soon as my body stopped functioning, and the neurons in my brain ceased firing, I made a remarkable transformation: from a living organism to a corpse, like a flower or a mouse that didn't make it through a particularly frosty night. The evidence is clear that once I died, it was over.
So I was unafraid of death—of the moment itself—and of what came afterwards, which was (and is) nothing. As I did all along, I remained somewhat afraid of the process of dying, of increasing weakness and fatigue, of pain, of becoming less and less of myself as I got there. I was lucky that my mental faculties were mostly unaffected over the months and years before the end, and there was no sign of cancer in my brain—as far as I or anyone else knew.
As a kid, when I first learned enough subtraction, I figured out how old I would be in the momentous year 2000. The answer was 31, which seemed pretty old. Indeed, by the time I was 31 I was married and had two daughters, and I was working as a technical writer and web guy in the computer industry. Pretty grown up, I guess.
Yet there was much more to come. I had yet to start this blog, which recently turned 10 years old. I wasn't yet back playing drums with my band, nor was I a podcaster (since there was no podcasting, nor an iPod for that matter). In techie land, Google was fresh and new, Apple remained "beleaguered," Microsoft was large and in charge, and Facebook and Twitter were several years from existing at all. The Mars rovers Spirit and Opportunity were three years away from launch, while the Cassini-Huygens probe was not quite half-way to Saturn. The human genome hadn't quite been mapped yet.
The World Trade Center towers still stood in New York City. Jean Chrétien remained Prime Minister of Canada, Bill Clinton President of the U.S.A., and Tony Blair Prime Minister of the U.K.—while Saddam Hussein, Hosni Mubarak, Kim Jong-Il, Ben Ali, and Moammar Qaddafi held power in Iraq, Egypt, North Korea, Tunisia, and Libya.
In my family in 2000, my cousin wouldn't have a baby for another four years. My other cousin was early in her relationship with the man who is now her husband. Sonia, with whom my mother had been lifelong friends (ever since they were both nine), was still alive. So was my Oma, my father's mom, who was then 90 years old. Neither my wife nor I had ever needed long-term hospitalization—not yet. Neither of our children was out of diapers, let alone taking photographs, writing stories, riding bikes and horses, posting on Facebook, or outgrowing her mother's shoe size. We didn't have a dog.
And I didn't have cancer. I had no idea I would get it, certainly not in the next decade, or that it would kill me.
Missing out
Why do I mention all this stuff? Because I've come to realize that, at any time, I can lament what I will never know, yet still not regret what got me where I am. I could have died in 2000 (at an "old" 31) and been happy with my life: my amazing wife, my great kids, a fun job, and hobbies I enjoyed. But I would have missed out on a lot of things.
And many things will now happen without me. As I wrote this, I hardly knew what most of them could even be. What will the world be like as soon as 2021, or as late as 2060, when I would have been 91, the age my Oma reached? What new will we know? How will countries and people have changed? How will we communicate and move around? Whom will we admire, or despise?
What will my wife Air be doing? My daughters Marina and Lolo? What will they have studied, how will they spend their time and earn a living? Will my kids have children of their own? Grandchildren? Will there be parts of their lives I'd find hard to comprehend right now?
What to know, now that I'm dead
There can't be answers today. While I was still alive writing this, I was sad to know I'll miss these things—not because I won't be able to witness them, but because Air, Marina, and Lauren won't have me there to support their efforts.
It turns out that no one can imagine what's really coming in our lives. We can plan, and do what we enjoy, but we can't expect our plans to work out. Some of them might, while most probably won't. Inventions and ideas will appear, and events will occur, that we could never foresee. That's neither bad nor good, but it is real.
I think and hope that's what my daughters can take from my disease and death. And that my wonderful, amazing wife Airdrie can see too. Not that they could die any day, but that they should pursue what they enjoy, and what stimulates their minds, as much as possible—so they can be ready for opportunities, as well as not disappointed when things go sideways, as they inevitably do.
I've also been lucky. I've never had to wonder where my next meal will come from. I've never feared that a foreign army will come in the night with machetes or machine guns to kill or injure my family. I've never had to run for my life (something I could never do now anyway). Sadly, these are things some people have to do every day right now.
A wondrous place
The world, indeed the whole universe, is a beautiful, astonishing, wondrous place. There is always more to find out. I don't look back and regret anything, and I hope my family can find a way to do the same.
What is true is that I loved them. Lauren and Marina, as you mature and become yourselves over the years, know that I loved you and did my best to be a good father.
Airdrie, you were my best friend and my closest connection. I don't know what we'd have been like without each other, but I think the world would be a poorer place. I loved you deeply, I loved you, I loved you, I loved you.
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[通知] 本文最後編輯時間: 2011/05/11 21:34:11 |
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