Exit Stage Left

What are your thoughts on the concept of living a very long life?

I don’t think I ever truly considered death until I gave birth. Ironic, isn’t it? Bringing life into the world and suddenly being terrified of leaving it. I remember rocking Julia to sleep at night, the soft hum of CD-101.9—New York’s Cool Jazz station—filling the room, whispering prayers like Please let me live long enough to hold Julia’s children. Let me see her experience life as a mother.

The years, of course, did what years always do. They flew. My stories of raising J & J are well documented here and will continue to be retold for as long as I’m able to tell them. It’s no secret these two have aged me decades—sometimes within a single twelve-hour stretch—but the trade-off was always worth it. I prayed for time the way some people pray for money or miracles. I wanted all of it. Forever, if possible.

And here we are, a quarter of the way through the millennium, with things feeling a little…unsteady. Two bouts of melanoma—a Stage 3 and a Stage 1—plus a side of basal cell carcinoma for kicks. A major overturned car accident in 2023. The kind of things that leave scars, visible and invisible. They changed me, but they didn’t finish me. I’ve been training daily since 2014 and I have no intention of stopping now. Movement still feels like defiance. Like gratitude.

My thoughts on death shifted in 2024. The girl who once wanted to live forever said goodbye to her dad—a man who slipped away in pieces. First his memories of us, stolen almost overnight and tossed off a cliff, never to be recovered. Then his faculties. Then, finally, the lights went out. Watching someone die is its own kind of death. Quiet. Relentless. It rewires something inside you that never fully returns to its original shape.

This summer, floating in the pool, I found myself staring up at the clouds as they drifted and rearranged themselves. I wondered—like I always do—what the clouds look like on the inside of Heaven. For most of my life, I never wanted to know. I feared stepping through the gates.

Now… I’m okay with the idea of exiting stage left – hopefully before my story reaches the chapter where sickness lingers longer than living. I want a graceful exit. A smile. The comfort of knowing J & J are happy and settled in their own lives.

And honestly? Knowing what I know now about who they’ve become, I could be okay leaving earlier than I once planned. Not because I love life any less—but because I’ve loved it fully, fiercely, and with my whole heart.

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Author: KikiFikar

Kiki Fikar is a native New Yorker who is passionate about taking the day to day life we all experience and sharing it in her tales from Suburbia. She will often be found at the gym, writing snippets each day for future story lines, listening to her two children create their lives, and building the perfect beachfront home and writing retreat in her mind.

23 thoughts on “Exit Stage Left”

  5. this is beautiful Karen, it really is.

    it’s a heck of a question, wanting to live a long life. there’s alot more to consider when you really think about it. not the least of which; what your attitude towards death gradually shifts to as you experience it closer and closer to your identity.

    i am so glad you are making progress from your accident. as well as for your health. life is so fragile like that. I think it’s why i am so cautious and at the same time engaged in every day. we just never know and when it does hit us, the pain is so excruciating so crushing.

    i hope that however long you want to live and however you want to exit stage left, it is how you wish it. but in the meantime, thank you for setting a standard for living life beautifully. Mike

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  6. I’m all teary Mike. Thank you so very much! It’s truly incredible how life can change on a dime. You truly just don’t know. Trying to be in control of my health so that life doesn’t roll me over is a priority.

    I wish I could talk more about the accident but right now I can’t. Suffice to say I am here! I can’t thank you enough for all of your support and your pieces. So happy we have connected!

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  7. We don’t die at once, we die in pieces. Personally, I don’t think it’s death that gets us it’s the progress small losses that make us smaller. It’s not the hip – it’s the loss of freedom. It’s not the loss of a significant other – it’s knowing we’ll never feel the warmth of skin against ours again. It’s not the silence – it’s knowing it will never be broken again. Being forced to redefine ourselves after each loss with fewer tool and less resources. Not becoming small. Though provoking piece!

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  9. That was beautiful, my friend Karen. We share the same perspective on exiting. After what I saw my father went through. battling cancer, I see that If the body is but a hollow shell, I see very little reason to cling on. Thank you for sharing.

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  18. Kiki, wow, this post stopped me cold. The part about your dad and the rewiring… and floating in the pool, looking up and thinking… sooo relatable. My mom went in her sleep, but at least she knew she was loved… she had just gotten a bouquet for Valentine’s Day from her two sons, have a pic of her smiling… my dad, not so cleanly. He and I had so many good talks over a few cold ones, but it’s never enough…wish I had 30 min to tell him more stuff and get his opinions.

    Glad you’re at peace with yourself and J&J but I hope your stage left is many moons from now and as you want…until then, hope you find joy each day and keep writing… such a powerful post ❤️🙏

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  19. I am humbled by your comment! Thank you so very much for sharing. I’m so interested in how others deal with this type of topic. These prompts really are eye and heart openers!

    Thinking about you and your memories today! Sending love! ❤️

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  22. Lovely piece. Especially liked this line: “Not because I love life any less—but because I’ve loved it fully, fiercely, and with my whole heart.” For the past few years, that’s been my goal. If I achieve that, then I think I’m doing good. Love life fiercely and with my whole heart. Thanks for sharing Kiki!!!

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