9/6/21

One day, Death will come for my parents, hungry hands clamoring for their life.
Will they be alone in those final moments?
Will I be someone they know?
Will I be a stranger?

I don’t want to be a stranger. I want to know them. I want to love them.

I want them.

I suppose we never outgrow that feeling of desperately wanting our parents to soothe us, and let us know that it’s going to be ok.

A false supplication, for in the end, it won’t be.

I’ve been alone for most of my life, juxtaposed by never being physically alone.

I don’t want that for them. I want them to drown in love when the last breath leaves.
I want joy to beat through their bodies without a trace of regret.

Will they have that?

Will I?

I hope so.