So the other day someone was talking about death. I found myself saying this- ' I am not afraid of my own death. I'm afraid of people around me dying.' I didn't know this till I actually spoke the words. I know that I will have a son at some point in life. I know that I will write a short book about my life which will never see the light of day. I know that I will always have a home. And just a while back as I was listening to Brothers in arms I pictured my dying. It came to me so clearly that I had to put it down. I will be an old old woman lying comfortable in an old old bed. Both of us frail and fat at the same time. My papery skin complimenting the papery canopy overhead. My darling husband naturally bald and handsome in a Pacino kinda way staring at me from a picture frame smiling benevolently satisfied at having died in my arms, knowing I could go on alone a while longer. My son and his children saying loving goodbyes.
Finally death and I will dance to the tune of Brothers in arms in a dark dark room.