It's strange everytime I hear of someone's death. It's like a part of me dies, whether or not I was emotionally close to the person. Apart from the grief of a life ended, the sadness that someone no longer exists, there is something else. Something more selfish, more immediate. A fear that nuzzles close to my skin.
There goes someone else who knew me as a child. Someone who was always in my life, even if sometimes on the periphery. Each death is another death of my receding childhood and youth. In some time everyone who saw me when I was born-- who remembers me when I couldn't walk, who saw me before I became the person I am today--soon they will all be dead.
And then I will truly be old. The cycle is in perpetual motion. Death
"I do not stir.
The frost makes a flower,
The dew makes a star,
The dead bell,
The dead bell.
Somebody's done for"