Death

The first time I witnessed death there was a tangible sorrow in the air.

I watched as my grandmother fumbled with the breathing machine until my mother had to tell her to stop, it made no difference.

I stared for a long time.

Even now I can’t remember the thoughts that crossed my mind.

Disbelief?

I suppose.

I had never seen someone die before. And now he lay in front of me, only moments after he had shuddered his last breath. His mouth now in an eternal scream.

The skin on his face gaunt and an unearthly yellow color, it felt unreal.

Helplessness.

My chest convulsed as I realized the severity of the situation. I listened to my grandmother sob as the room became void of any positivity. I found myself gripping my own shoulders until my knuckles turned white for lack of an ability to do anything else.

I think this was the first time I realized that one day I would die.

It absolutely horrified me.