I used to be afraid of you. I’d stay up late at night in fear of closing my eyes, praying I’d never wake up in a casket. I hated attending funerals because I’d knew you’d be there, maybe waiting for me. I used to think of you all the time, almost an obsession I had out of curiosity. I even questioned the possibility of the afterlife, seeing my loved ones walking around the very cemetery they were laid to rest. I remember the first encounter I had with you, I was at the tender age of 9 gasping for air as the bright lights surrounding me revealed a room, outlining the structure of what appeared to be an emergency room. The obsession of you became an addiction, news paper clippings (obituaries) I’d place inside of an old scrapbook. Turning those pages only brought forth more depression than I could fathom, realizing in that I moment I was only existing. From that moment on I decided to live, I have a purpose on this earth and I’m determined to live it to the very end. Death, although you’re never too far away, I can no longer give you any more of my time but…… on the day you decide to pay me a visit I’ll be waiting.
– C.A. Thomas