i know it's almost time. and i wish you had the words to say to me.
i know you do. i just wished you said it. it would make my passing a little more comfortable.
i know i don't have much time left here. and i know that i must undergo this transformation.
this passing from here to there.
let me admit it:
i am afraid.
yet, if you say words to me which i find out of bounds to speak, i will find some sort of peace with it.
tell me you love me. tell me that i'll be missed. tell me that this food will nurish me, even for a little bit.
tell me that i was good. tell me that i will make it.
tell me that i'm not dying, but will fall asleep. and wake up.
and this body will never be the same again.
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