I am not elderly, ill, or especially macabre‚ but I think about death quite often.
I think of the deep and cavernous hole that will burrow its way into my heart and life, should I lose my children or my soulmate.
Furthermore, I think of what my own death would do to those loved ones, and how it would steal the gifts I want to continually give them throughout my life: my tender words, tight hugs, and empathetic tears.
But death is the thief of these things. It is the cruel blade that cuts away dreams.
I am actually beginning to see death differently. Read More…