Every night, I roll over to face the empty side of my bed. In varying levels of distress, I call out to a friend. My busy friend always stops by for our chat. I beg. I plead. I offer. It’s when I attempt bribery Death laughs in my face.
Death is beyond desire. This is a human emotion. An emotion that has been bedeviling my existence the last six years. She is dead. I am not. Death is patient with my tantrums, my screams, my tears. “I’m not afraid to go,” I say. “No, my child, you’re afraid to live.”
