I was probably in my single-digits when I began to think about my parents being older parents and having those fears that I might lose them before I was ready. Sometimes, in my bed at night, I would fret.
The truth is, I was never ready – few people are – but I survived this loss and even thrived. When I was young, I was so afraid to face a dying face and I wanted to run from it all. Now I know that everything is still there right where it should be, beating away inside the drum of my chest. There is recompense in knowing this, so why look away?
And my parents --I wanted to make them proud of me, and I still do, even through all of my failures.