Death Scares Me

Now, I've been known to have some disturbing thoughts lying down to bed at night. The times when my body is exhausted and my mind is racing and I have no other option but to lie there and listen to it; hear it whir to life and be forced to face it...to face all the thoughts that scare and intrigue me. So, to ensure my sanity, I make a mental note to write it all down later in hopes of clearing my psyche come morning.

The thoughts start out simple. One word or phrase. Then, they expand as my mind takes over and my body is frozen, held hostage to my internal speculation. Once it starts there is no stopping it until it's run its course and finally, yet reluctantly, fizzled out.

Last night the phrase to kick start my involuntary contemplation was as follows:

Death scares me.

Not my death mind you, but the deaths of loved ones. My mother. My father. My sisters. The waking pain of it resonating everyday until I couldn't feel anymore.
That's what scares me.

Their death.
My pain.
I couldn't stand it.

There's so many pending questions regarding the death of a loved one, before and after the fact.

If one of my parents died:
When would I find out?
Who would tell me?
Where would I be when I heard the news?
Would I find them myself?
What would I do if I did?

How would I react on the spot?
Would I break down or be left in shock?

If I was left in shock:
When would the realizations flood me?

The comprehension that they would never see grandchildren.
That they wouldn't be at my wedding.
That I'd never see them again.
Never hug, kiss, or tell them I loved them.

What must that feel like...?
Could I live through it?
I don't know if I could.

As depressing and raw as they may be, those are the sometimes the kinds of thoughts I fall asleep to at night.

Welcome to my world.