Heather Fowler

“I take a swig of booze. "I didn't do it. The surgery." "I heard," he says. "Can I ask why not?" I shrug, not because I don't know but because I don't feel like rehashing his role in my decision. "You know when you're hanging out with people and you have to leave early? Everyone tells you to stay, but you have to go, so you do a round of goodbyes and hugs and everything. Then, you're at the door, and you glance back, and you want everyone to still be staring after you, waving. But they've all already gone back to their conversation. You're not missed at all." I gaze out at the ocean, the endless shifting expanse. "That's what makes me feel sad about dying. That after I'm gone and everyone has said goodbye, life just goes on without me." "You're worried about leaving a legacy?" Cooper asks. "What you'll be remembered for?" "More like, I'll just miss life. Life. I'll miss being a part of it. I'll miss weddings and the ocean and music and champagne. I'll miss the drama and the gossip and the news and New York. I'll just miss it.”
― Georgia Clark, The Bucket List