On Death.

Alternate titles include: On things that will make you question the existence of God; On things that don’t hit you until they hit you, or someone you love; On being guilty for being alive.

It’s never fair – ever. No matter which way you slice it, death is death is death, and the dark logic always amounts to zero. And unless you add a 30 to that zero, dark, logic, you never ever want to watch it happen.

I’ve witnessed death twice in my lifetime. The first time, I was young. Not young enough to misunderstand what was going on, but young enough to feel suffocated, like he was. A crowded hospital room. An air that changed - from stories and laughter to wails and screams in the blink of an eye that couldn’t blink; it was glued shut. The Moment was preceded by repetitive breaths. His head laid to the side, profile facing us. It moved up and down on the pillow, in rhythm with each inhale, exhale. The Last Breath was slow, like a graceful release of the poisonous cells that ruined him. There was silence.

The second time, I was older. It was cold and it was Christmas. I knew the ropes. I was expectant and ready. I wore red and green. But The Moments Before threw me, and screwed me. It was different this time. More people, more chaos. Red eyes, shaky fingers, sweaty foreheads circled around her. Tongues flapped incessantly and heat stuck to the air. I was older. I was guilty. I leaned into her ear and whispered I’m sorry. The Last Breath was quick, like a hasty escape from the dreadful caroling surrounding her. The screams continued.

This is death. Memories that can only be seen with the haze of an eye filled to the brim. Two stories tied together with this one, hideous black ribbon. I wrap them up, and tuck them away. They stay there, side by side, in a nook of my memory that collects dust until summoned.

“The doctors say there are only 24 hours left.”

I say nothing.

I blow off the dust.

I slowly untie the grainy black ribbon.

I see them, waiting to greet me with their pointed faces and maniacal grins.

Hello, I say.

I wait.