My favorite jacket

Death is only a concern for the living and it feels like loneliness and abandonment. People always fade away from my life, even the ones who would never abandon me in life leave in death. Death right now, for me, is every text I receive at work or at home. With my grandma being in the horrible shape she is, and her sister up in Wisconson, taking care of her...I get an update here and there. The last one described how my grandmother’s lungs are full of fluid, the cancerous spots were revealed to have doubled in size, according to the latest CT scan, and the medicine that’s supposed to encourage her appetite might be working, but the other treatments cause a weakening of the muscles, including the ones used to swallow. Even if she wants to eat, it’s damn near impossible.

Death looks like a nauseating train ride straight through hell that will never pull back in to the station, so you figure you’ll jump off sometime and be okay. Then one day it dawns on you that you left your favorite jacket on the train and it’s never coming back. The one jacket in the world that made you feel warm on the coldest days, brought out the color of your eyes, and comforted you more than anything else in the world ever could. That jacket. But when it’s gone, there is nothing like it. But clothing comes and goes, sometimes we outgrow it and still keep it around. Sometimes it’s too big and we have to grow into it to see how well it really fits. Sometimes you lose the person... I mean, the jacket...you are most fond of in the entire world. The jacket you turn to, to hide you from the world and protect you from anything that could ever hurt you or bring you down.

Death just fucking sucks and it looks like a wellworn jacket abandoned on a train seat, but you move on and continue being good to yourself. That’s all there is.

And all there will ever be.