It was 2010 when I first processed death, my heart skipped a beat and I choked in my breath when your cousin shrugged and told me you unexpectedly passed on from an unknown illness. Would you have expected me to be at your funeral? I would have been had I known. It stirs in me still and the feeling has only grown. The mystery of what your future held keeps me awake. Sometimes, I dream about my friends lifeless at their wakes. This must be grieving instilled in me. I will be molded by death before reach. How much longer can I stare into crosses? I’m cutting blessings and counting losses. Is this my chance to get closer to God? Testing faith I don’t have? All that I can do is sympathize. Is this what I get for my thoughts not being set on a higher plane? Just deepening human pain? And just like that, you are forgotten. Your family internalizes the hurt. All legacies are idealizations. Time will move on without you and I will too. I should get comfortable with you leaving. I don’t want to. I feel tremendous guilt as well as being stuck with envy on this earth and not inside a casket. Can you end me so my thoughts won’t race and I’ll stop asking who will come next?