We’d learn how to say “no.”

We’d embrace our needs. Whether those were purely our own or the need to fulfill another’s.

We’d kiss more. Hold hands more.

What we wouldn’t do is run out to buy the next fucking iPhone. We wouldn’t care about shoes, video games and definitely not about student loans. We wouldn’t waste our money on television sets or SUVs. We’d give it away-simply hand out hundred dollar bills to anyone living on the street. We’d drink our favorite beer or wine, gather around our friends and sing “Don’t Stop Believin’” at the top of our lungs. Maybe we’d graffiti the city. Maybe we would fill an empty pool with tapioca balls and toss ourselves in. Perhaps we’d run naked, straight into the ocean, Lake Michigan or the creek in your neighbor’s back yard and make love in the filthy water.

Maybe we would live like we were nineteen again and know that the only guarantee of permanency is death.

Lately, I’ve been entranced with the reality. I’ve never been afraid of death, but instead found peace in the idea that when one door closes, another must open. However, this last year or so, I’ve been absolutely terrified of it. I would like to say that it’s just the thought of losing others that keeps me awake at night, but even the idea of my own death leaves me trembling.

All I keep asking myself is: if I were to die tomorrow, have I accomplished everything that I’ve dreamt up? Have I showed my friends and family how much I truly love them? Have I inspired anyone to reach beyond their fears and dive into a life that they’ve always desired? Have I spoken enough about the things that I love and stood strongly enough for the changes that I believe the world needs to see? Have I done anything for humanity or had all of my endeavors been in vain?

But mostly, was I happy or did I spend my life in misery, trying to please everyone else?

And then, if that weren’t enough to send my heart into shock, there is a haunting vision of losing anyone close to me. I can’t even put into words how deeply horrified I am of this. Because, the fact is, death follows and stalks our every move. Everything could change in an instant.

Everything could change in an instant and one day, it will.

Tonight, I’m going to make the best black bean soup I’ve eve made. I’m going to hug my dogs longer. I’ll sing sweeter and scream louder at band practice and prepare for what could be our last show ever. I’m going to unplug my husband’s computer afterwards so he cannot spend one more minute slaving away at work instead of locking lips with me.

Because death is throwing a party and you never know when you’ll receive your invitation.

so this is where we come to die
with cement walls and fluorescent lights
chasing ghosts down hallways of white
hoping God will hear our cry

we plead in desperation
as we lay on beds hard as stone
our tears fall in moderation, these days
as our bodies turn cold as stone

we speak to the angels, do they hear us cry?
will they lift our souls when our bodies die?

this is where we come to say goodbye

our fears grow stronger and hopes collapse
as the ticking clocks show no remorse
we cling to every loving hand
as we let death tread it’s course

their eyes glaze over in defeat
as the pain sinks deeper into our bones
stare up at photos of family
only to remind us that we die alone

we speak to angels, but they dismiss our cries
we won’t make it out alive, this time

we’ve come here to say our last goodbye

©Jennifer Bartlett 2011

I went alone to see my dying grandfather in his hospital bed this morning. He was so out of it when he asked what my name was. He then called me Jennifer. I asked him how he was feeling; he said “fine, I think. I don’t really know what’s going on.” I cried. I walked to the wall where my family had posted photos of all of us and then I broke my shoe. I tucked the strap in and sat next to my grandfather and he was sleeping. I sat for a while and he rested. I gave him a kiss and a hug and left. When I sat in my car, I realized I officially consider myself an adult. It takes a lot of strength to go alone, but I knew I had to. Now, I’m emotionally and physically exhausted.

It doesn’t get easier when you get older, and despite what some may think, you heart doesn’t go numb either. It’s never easy to watch someone die.