Starving

Death is such an odd concept. 

 

I have always been saddled with death nearby. Before I was born all but one grandparent had passed and my own father had died a few short hours after my 9th birthday in the adjacent room. Animals floated in and out with old age and sickness. Yet I was never wrought with nightmares. With repeating memories flickering like an old black and white film. 

I always thought that was for movies. The tortured soul of a protagonist who has nightmares about a tragic thing, and wakes up screaming in the middle of the night for someone to rescue her. But this isn't a movie and I am not a frightened protagonist.  

The difference between then and now is that this was the first- time death appeared before me personally. It gave me a front row seat of the moment between life and death all while showing how close I was to joining it. The surround sound blaring the snap of bone and the sheer terror that shuddered through my body as I realized that if I had move two steps forward 2 seconds earlier then that would be my bones crunching against the car. Although death and I have been pen pals my whole life this was the first time meeting personally. He departed with the cooling whisper of death settling over my body. 

The dark that for so long had been my sweet companion had turned sour. When the last click of light extinguished, I was left with the feeling of panic. The night, that had always welcomed me with open arms, tried to suffocate me. As if it was punishing me for letting such a bright, bubbly life end so soon. The memories that it forced me to watch as the night continued on.  

To be personally touched by death intoxicates you with anguish. The light must be kept on until I involuntarily sleep once the sun has reappeared. Because the sun means warmth and I am starving for some.