The Moment I Realized I Might Be Leaving This Earth

Velarion Light Journal Entry 3

The moment I realized I had only seconds — seconds — before I might be leaving the earth hit me harder than anything I had ever experienced. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t cinematic. It was instant, and it was absolute.

My throat closed.
My vision tightened.
My body began to shut down.
And in that split second, a truth ripped through me:

I might not survive this.

And I felt it — the grief of unfinished life.

I didn’t have time to say or do any of the things I still needed to.

My youngest was only two.
My others were just 4, 6, and 10.
Babies.
All of them.

I couldn’t imagine them growing up without me.
I couldn’t imagine them searching for me, needing me, and me not 

being there. It was the most desperate, primal will to live I had ever felt.

Before that moment, my life was simple.
I was a wife and a mother.
We lived on my dad’s farm.
Their dad worked away for three weeks at a time, so it was always just me and the kids. I didn’t have help — but somehow I was still expected to be the help for so many others. And I did it, because my lineage shaped me that way. It was written into my ancestral DNA to care, support, carry, give… even when I was already carrying too much.

But in those seconds where everything spun out of my control, I saw my life with stunning honesty.

I saw the places where I poured myself into people who barely noticed.
I saw how small I had become inside the role everyone expected from me.
I saw how invisible I had been — even to myself.
And I saw how quickly everything can fall away.

It stripped me clear.
It cracked me open.
It forced me to look at what mattered and what didn’t — with no illusions left.

That moment didn’t just change me.
It woke something inside me that had been silent for lifetimes.

A truth:
I was not living the life I was meant for.
Not yet.

And that was the beginning of everything that came after.

-Cassia