Ill

Someone's ill.
Someone close.
Someone who helped raise me.
I get nauseous at the thought of them no longer being here.
I get scared of the pain that will come.
I get scared of what it's going to be like without them.
They get lost. They see things that aren't there. They are frail (physically). They have forgotten how to do simple daily tasks. They are emotionally resilient. They are mentally a giant. I imagine they must be scared - therefore I'm in awe of their bravery. I'm in awe of them everyday. They mean more to me than even I can comprehend. There is a dedication beyond love, and that is what I have for them. But they're sick, and I'm scared and sad and hurt. These aren't good times. I think about them often. I recall the past. I recall their strength. I recall their love. I recall their intelligence. I recall their voice. I recall their smell. I recall four leaf clovers saved within the pages of a massive Bible. I recall them sunning in the South Carolina sun. I recall their inclusion of everyone - no matter what. I recall their devotion to something greater than themselves.
I don't want them to go.
But I know they cannot be here forever.
Though knowing does nothing for the longing of death to stay at bay.
Someone's sick, and there's this constant lump in my throat created of fear and anger of something taking them away.

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