Why I Can't Kill Spiders

I once threw a tantrum because my father killed a spider. That was nothing compared to watching someone you hold so dear suffer through cancer.

Death, to me, is more than just some abstract idea that one might be uneducated on. To me, death is alive. I have seen first-hand someone I would do anything for be alive, but when you look into their eyes all you see is emptiness.

...To this day I don't kill spiders

Hair was lost along with weight that wasn't there to lose. Hospital bills were stacked like mountains and hope sank seven miles to the deepest part of the ocean. Many masks were worn and many walls were built. Hospitals became homes and home became a vacation destination. This hellacious reality felt like eternity.

Now death never actually finished the job. All that's left now are scars on his stomach and scars in all over our barely beating hearts. There are moments I remember and moments I have tried to forget. I no longer have nightmares of fictional situations, I have nightmares that feel like déjà vu.

I rejoice that I no longer have to fear whether his death might be near. Although forever more will my reality of what death really is be altered.