The fears I have surrounding the manner of your possible death are sometimes greater than the thought of you actually being gone. I wonder in your final moments, where will you be? An unfamiliar house? A vehicle in a random parking lot? Somewhere darker than I care to imagine? What will be the last sound you hear? Who will be the last person to say your name? When your heart stops beating and you slip into that warm place, who would be there to watch you go? I fear that you would be alone. That the people who love you - the ones who can hear your laugh ringing in their heads, and feel the warmth of your hugs will not be there to guide you and tell you it’s okay. I fear that at the end you will be numb. And not in a way that keeps you safe from pain, but the kind that does the opposite. The kind of numb that makes you feel unworthy of love and unable to face the people who care about you. The people you call home. I fear that with all of the signs right in front of our faces, we still won’t be able to save you which feels like we might as well have killed you ourselves.
