Death and other Familiars
Hilsia died on Saturday morning.
I've been thinking a lot about death, about how afraid of it I am now, in a way I never was before my mom died. That one big thing has turned me into a worrier.
Don't eat that, it causes cancer.
Don't drink that, it causes cancer.
Don't use that, it causes cancer.
Have that checked, it could be cancer.
Put on sunscreen, stop smoking, etc, etc, etc, ad nauseum.
I am less afraid of any other death than I am of cancer. I am terrified of cancer. And at the same time, it is almost an old friend. I am so used to having it in my life, affecting the people I love, it has become synonymous not only with deep hurt and loss, but also with the strength and determination and life of the people I have held most dear.
I find it vaguely ironic that my astrological sign is cancer. That when I was less afraid, more naive, more willing to believe, I tattooed the cancer symbol on the tender flesh of my belly. And it's still there. A punch in my gut. Close as family.
I've been thinking a lot about death, about how afraid of it I am now, in a way I never was before my mom died. That one big thing has turned me into a worrier.
Don't eat that, it causes cancer.
Don't drink that, it causes cancer.
Don't use that, it causes cancer.
Have that checked, it could be cancer.
Put on sunscreen, stop smoking, etc, etc, etc, ad nauseum.
I am less afraid of any other death than I am of cancer. I am terrified of cancer. And at the same time, it is almost an old friend. I am so used to having it in my life, affecting the people I love, it has become synonymous not only with deep hurt and loss, but also with the strength and determination and life of the people I have held most dear.
I find it vaguely ironic that my astrological sign is cancer. That when I was less afraid, more naive, more willing to believe, I tattooed the cancer symbol on the tender flesh of my belly. And it's still there. A punch in my gut. Close as family.