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A former news anchor, Mao Kobayashi, died on June 22.
I was moved to read her essay she sent to BBC and wanted to translte it into English.
But the english translation was already on the website of BBC.
(Looks like the last two sentences have not been put into English.)
It is such a profound essay, I guess it will be published in English textbooks for seniro high school students. Forgive me for thinking that way; it's a sad habit of an English teacher...
I will read it once in a while.
My sincere condolences for Ms. Mao Kobayashi.
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Two years ago, when I was 32, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. My daughter was three, my son was only one. I thought: "It'll be OK because I can go back to being how I was before once the cancer is treated and cured." But it wasn't that easy and I still have cancer in my body.
For a long time I hid the disease. Because my job involved appearing on TV I was scared about being associated with illness or showing people my weaknesses. I would try to avoid being seen on the way to hospital appointments and I stopped communicating with people so as not to be found out.
But while wanting to go back to who I was before, I was actually moving more and more towards the shadows, becoming far removed from the person I wanted to be. After living like that for 20 months, my palliative treatment doctor said something that changed my mind.
"Don't hide behind cancer," she said, and I realised what had happened. I was using it as an excuse not to live any more.
I had been blaming myself and thinking of myself as a "failure" for not being able to live as I had before. I was hiding behind my pain.
Until that time I had been obsessed with being involved in every part of domestic life because that was how my own mother always behaved. But as I got ill, I couldn't do anything, let alone everything, and in the end, as I was hospitalised, I had to leave my children.
When I was forced to let go of this obsession to be the perfect mother - which used to torture me, body and soul - I realised it had not been worth all the sacrifice I had made.
My family - even though I couldn't cook for them or drop them off and pick them up at the kindergarten - still accepted me, believed in me and loved me, just like they always had done, as a wife and a mother.
When I was forced to let go of this obsession to be the perfect mother - which used to torture me, body and soul - I realised it had not been worth all the sacrifice I had made.
My family - even though I couldn't cook for them or drop them off and pick them up at the kindergarten - still accepted me, believed in me and loved me, just like they always had done, as a wife and a mother.
If I died now, what would people think? "Poor thing, she was only 34"? "What a pity, leaving two young children"? I don't want people to think of me like that, because my illness isn't what defines my life.
My life has been rich and colourful - I've achieved dreams, sometimes clawed my way through, and I met the love of my life. I've been blessed with two precious children. My family has loved me and I've loved them.
So I've decided not to allow the time I've been given be overshadowed entirely by disease. I will be who I want to be.
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