In the wake of a recent family member’s passing, the only really close connection I ever had to someone, I find my mind plays tricks on me. It tells me I need to stand up, yell and run when all I really want to do is sit and shut my mouth. It tells me to feel the earth under me when I am still numb, It tells me stories as if my heart didn’t know the real truth. It tries to climb in me when I want to be left alone.

I don’t know answers to questions like these, all I know is how my mind and body are not as connected as I had thought. I hate when I want to hug. I snarl when I want to laugh. It is a beast under your bed. Coming out at the innocent of times. I feel vulnerable. Broken. Sometimes the only thing holding me together is fear.

I so want to laugh again, and I will, but when IT’S time. The clock isn’t on MY wrist. I hate not being in control. I asked my wife to take me to a park that has a track so that I can walk it, Think things though when… all I needed were some tissues and the alphabet on a metal frame to take me somewhere I have never been before. This is it. This is the decay that death brings. I get it I just don’t want it. People tell me it is a way of life, the cycle. A way to cope is to reach out but sometimes death robs us of that muscle to… reach, and instills in us the motors of abandon. But I don’t want to run. I want to talk, walk, and function. I will in time but I just don’t know who is holding that watch.

I don’t feel the same. I don’t act the same, I, don’t… know the same person. I look in the mirror and feel even more lost though I found myself looking directly back. I only hope that these words will help me find my way back from where I was. I liked that me. He was funny. He smiled. He laughed. he was genuine. Granted death, so I have read, changes us forever. This I understand, but it shouldn’t stop us from the possibility for new growth either.