She touched the fabric of his shirt
As he slipped away to who knows where
In a shallow breath and a foggy stare.
She touched the fabric so that she knew he had been there,
He wasn’t just some trick of the mind
Their story really mattered, it really existed
Those memories of the kisses, births and parties too.
It was a happy book, written in their name
But still, it was hard to not know where he was,
It was frightening to stand with toes curled over
The edge of the gaping abyss
And not know where the bottom may be,
If there is a bottom anywhere at all?
I went to the solicitor’s office with my dad to get his will signed this week, and the effect that it had on me was quite profound. I really felt bent out of shape as we left, having thought properly about the fact that my dad could leave me at any time.
I think most humans try to avoid thinking about death because it’s enough to drive you crazy, but when you do finally sit down and consider it, it’s terrifying.
For those that are left behind, we don’t know if we’ll see that person again. And for the person facing death, there is that fear of nothingness.
I believe that we must go somewhere. I’m a Christian but even if I strip away any biblical teachings, I don’t believe that a soul and all the memories that we store up in a life time can just vanish in a moment.
It is the uncertainty that is the real kicker. And, of course, there is always the chance that I could go first. Life is so fragile and my trip to the solicitor reminded me of that, which can only be a good thing.
Enjoy it while you have it.