Short and Sweet

Feb 16, 2008 - 23:14 PM PST

My mother is afraid of death. It scares me that she can be scared of something that hardly bothers me. At the funeral, she had us sit in the back, so the shriveled head in the casket was invisible to her behind rows and rows of living ones.
She cried so hard, when her father died. And she never stopped. I see her tears on his birthday, and on Christmas, year after year. I don't believe they'll ever quite fade.
My mother is not afraid of needles, not afraid of being poked or prodded. This I cannot live with: I can only live with death.