"Don't touch my stuff while I'm gone I'll be sending for my things in afew days."
This is what I'd say when I knew I was dying. I'd donate all my crap. Leave maybe afew things to the family.
I probably wouldn't say anything. I'm playing the role of Horatius at the bridge. My friends and family have better things to do than listen to my last words, like running. I'd rather roar my defiance at what I face until the end.
I'd go to each of my family members individually and explain what I hated about them, then I'd say I loved them all and die, knowing they'd at least feel mildly guilty.
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