Its gut wrenching, sick, twisted, always happening with no way to stop it; Death.
Death is the black hole that threatens to consume us, the pile of tissue boxes left over
when we get the news, and the reason we need to love with are whole heart and be ready to say goodbye at any moment. Webster’s defines death as “the act or fact of dying. No longer living; deprived of life-the end of life.” Wherever the outcome my be or how it happened death is the cause of the holes in our hearts, it’s depression, empty seats at the table, and enough tears to make a river. It’s expected, unexpected and hard.
To start off death can be and is expected. The trip to the doctor; the sickly sweet smell of fear, the drenched shirt with sweat and the shiver of premonition that you know the words the doctor will say. “Sorry but….you’re going to die.” Death is the lump on the side of your head, come to find out its cancer. It’s the fact that over last few months you have become weak and unable to breathe because the mass is laying on your brain. It’s knowing that you were born with a birth defect and you’re lucky to live past 10. It’s that bottle of beer or wine that you have been downing every day for several years because you’re an alcoholic. Knowing that if you drink one more drop the liver that’s been trying its best to keep going will finally fail. It’s your actions of everyday life. It’s knowing that you were born with AIDS or the needle you use to shoot up was contaminated and now you have to live with AIDS and prepare to die from it. Death is expected with these outcomes. At least you...