I woke up at 2am the other night (or day before daylight) with a pain inside my upper right arm,
shooting into my wrist and fingertips
gripping felt impossible
muscles dizzy
I jolted awake.
at 2am, day before daylight
afraid
Am I dying?
I acknowledge death more often more seriously than before my mother died.
My first instinct in the face of pain is to fear it, run from it, go to the doctor, find out what's wrong,
to fix it.
I remember my father didn't believe her when she said she wasn't feeling well.
I believe myself when I'm not feeling well.
I believe my body is preparing to die early.
She died early and so will I
think I am dying early.
Maybe most of us die early.
Dying is the only instance that "Better late than never" doesn't apply to.
The pain in my arm woke me
The pain in my arm woke my fear of dying.
I have never cried in pain before she died.
But I teared up as moving my bicep flashed searing pain down my body
and in my mind.
I teared up not because my arm hurt
but because it reminded me I am alive
and that she, in pain,
She died.
Hours later my arm pain was a dull ache.
All it needed was ice and time.
It's fine I'm fine.
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