the inevitable painstaking helplessness that arises when you see yourself confronted with alert eyes; well prepared for the most feared and obvious end… but you’re never really prepared - just warned - and waiting… and every time it alludes you - relief. but only enough to keep one eye ever vigilant on the next unforeseen expense at which may cost you the absolute inevitable.
this is life. more concisely, my life. since early childhood - “god willing, i make it another year… god willing i’m still kicking” never a measure or plan made in advanced without the darkened reminder that we all die and the older; the sicker; the sadder, the more likely it can creep up and snatch you - so it seemed a presentation with the expression of reassured mortality - that a promise can be broken by the spirit expelled from the skin. and - best laid plans can go awry if we are laid to rest.
but in all such early expectancy, i have found myself coddling the idea of your spirit gone and away from me with such sadness and fear that in my vigilance - though eyes are on every hour of life left in you - i have made each minute a mournful one… and worry stops me in my tracks so far off that i cannot enjoy the time we have left together without the constant thought of being without. and each time i choose to stay home instead of visit - i sulk in the guilt that i don’t have much time left - because every ‘next time’ i utter is just another ‘god willing’ waiting to be said.