She was preparing herself, for no particular reason. Life was just going too good, for too long. And she knew better. Of course, there were little things – but there will always be little things. I’m sure even spiders get frustrated with their web at some point.
Yet, she could feel it coming on. The mornings got more arduous, and rest became infrequent. The days started to blur together, so she began the countdown. Then, one Saturday morning it happened. Combing through her tangled, fine hair – she got a text. And just like that, someone else was dead.
But she was already getting ready to attend one funeral today, how should she prepare for another so soon?
Death happens to be one loss that everyone shares on. No matter the connection. She breathed and finished her hair.
This death wasn’t for her, however, or by her – but she needed to be there for death. And all of death’s celebrations and regrets that danced across people’s lips.
A poem to go along: https://www.poeticexpressions.co.uk/poems/she-is-gone/