I don’t want to be the last one, the one left behind. I don’t cope well with change, and I cope even worse with death. I’m terrified to lose loved ones. Maybe that is also why I hold them at arm’s length, because I am trying to cope with losing them before they are lost.
I think about it sometimes, especially when I’m depressed, what it will be like to say goodbye to my mom, my siblings. I could’ve welcomed my brother home from Iraq in a box. For all I know, my father is already dead. I don’t want to say goodbye.
I don’t want to put them through a funeral… but I don’t want to attend theirs someday. That terrifies me.