A story from my past that most of you are aware of. A tale of a five year old and his vivid imagination claiming he had seen and captured death.
Ever since that time and perhaps some time before that as the dreams became nightmares I have always had a chip on my shoulder concerning the final act.
To not be afraid of death is not the same as understanding it is coming. The abstract of all of this seems silly now after the incident I was in the center of last week.
When a heart stops even for a few moments the realization is at hand and frankly I am still scared.
While I understand the process and the process is inevitable more than ever I know time is random and fleeting and time is important and the ones you hold dear are even more important.
Take care of yourselves. I am making changes as we speak.
And by the way, that picture I painted at age five was in black, while what I saw last week was very much grey.