By Art Buchwald
Thursday, September 21, 2006

The summer is over. As I reported in June, instead of going to Heaven I went to Martha's Vineyard.

This was a wonderful way to end an adventure. When it looked as if I was going to die, a lot of interest was immediately created. When I went to the hospice for my last days, all my friends came to say goodbye. It was a heady experience. Everyone was kind, thoughtful and sad.

Because I refused to take dialysis, the medical community predicted that I'd expire in a couple of weeks.

Since I hadn't had any practice dying, I had to learn the hard way.

It was one thing to die, but it was another to have the whole world know about it.

I didn't plan it this way, but all the newspapers and television networks felt it was a good story.

There was a tiny part of me that thought I wouldn't die. I ignored that voice and assumed I would be gone soon. With that in mind, I planned my funeral, appointed my pallbearers and spent my days visiting with all the people from different periods of my life.

As time went on, I resumed writing my column and I even signed to write a book about my experience in the hospice. Random House, my publisher, felt it was a perfect book for the Christmas season. It is about death, but at the same time it has a very cheery note.

Summer was the best time for me because by then the chance of my dying seemed to be petering out. I could enjoy all that the Vineyard had to offer, and also all the kudos I got for not going to Heaven. I'll never have a moment quite like that again.

The whole thing was like a play. Everyone played his or her role -- the relatives, the mourners, the friends and even my readers. After every television appearance or newspaper article, I received more mail.

What added to the drama and the suspense was that the doctors had removed one of my legs to avoid gangrene.

I have a suspicion that if I had both my legs, my condition would not have had the same cachet, but with only one leg and bad kidneys I was ready to play the Palace.

The summer is over and I now return to Washington, but not as the hero I was in the spring. I'm going home instead of to a hospice. I don't believe that the people who were so interested in my condition before will be quite as interested now.

Today is the beginning of the rest of my life.

There are probably a few people who will still stick by me, but they're not going to call me every day.

And they're not going to bring cheesecake or send me Hallmark cards.

I'm sure I can get through it. I'm practicing now not being dead. With fall coming, I'll deliver my book. It's a story of a man condemned to death who, for reasons no one can explain, is pardoned.

I thank those who stood by me during my soap opera and welcome those who continue to be with me in the days ahead.

Anyone can die. It takes a lot more out of you to live.

2006Tribune Media Services