The clock was falling closer towards dawn as I just continued to toss and flip around. That feeling had set in on me. The undeniable weight of the truth of what is heading your way. Full force with no chance of avoiding it in any way. There really isn’t a name for it; I refer to it as death. Not actual death, but the concept of it. The permanent unshakeable feeling of it. That moment you have been dreading but ultimately know it is coming. You go on each day trying to live it without the fear or even the thoughts of what is coming for you. Call it denial if you will, but in some ways denial isn’t a bad thing.  Especially, if there is a period of waiting for something to happen. For example, when a loved one is on their final stretch of their life. You, their loved one, are told to prepare yourself. I have had loved ones pass on without having the chance to say goodbye. I have had loved ones that have a timer floating above their heads. That morning I couldn’t sleep. I kept running through the past few weeks of mine, my families actions. Trying to piece together how we actually got to this point. At some point throughout that night without noticing or really even knowing but it was as someone silently whispered into my ear that it was the end. That before the night was over and the sun rose that my phone would ring with the bone wrenching news being said out loud. We were given anywhere from a week to a month with my grandmother, Charsley. Her opponent was cancer.  When I was a child cancer dared to enter the ring with my grandmother for the first time. It went for her breasts. I was at the age that now looking back moments of those days seem foggy. I remember the fear on my family’s faces. The seriousness of every moment. I also remember the relief; the release of weight from the air when my grandmother conquered cancer. After her victory cancer stayed away from our family. Until, I was a senior in high school. My sisters best friend, Jenessee, was diagnosed with a rare type of brain cancer. They were together so much that before too long she turned into another sister to me. She was given a few months given that it was stage four. She fought like hell. She dug down deep and became a warrior. She fought past her timeline. Even though during that time we were all in a unknown state of time but after we passed the time length placed on her; we were in more of unknown state of time. Time we had left with her. Time to make memories. Time to say goodbye. Now it was more of a worry that each time we spent time with her that it’d be the last. There were many days within the following months that we rushed into the hospital in hopes of a final “I love you,” or “see you soon.” No matter what we did though we couldn’t honestly plan on being there for that moment to get that chance. Cancer won that fight that December. Without a doubt she won the war.  This was the first time I ever felt the feeling of “death.”  That entire year I knew unless she was given a miracle that goodbye was coming sooner rather than later. Even with knowing that the feeling of the end wasn’t known until the weeks before it was here. It was like the air had the warnings within it. “Get ready,” it whispered. All of a sudden you have a glimpse of what the end of someone’s life feels like. Comforting but devastating. It eats at you throughout all hours of the day, night. Do you act on the feeling? Do you warn them of this unshakeable feeling that is covering you? Or do you act as before and just use the time you have before what is coming gets there? These were all the questions that filled my mind.