Death, my feelings and my fear

I am never afraid of dying, but I am afraid of death.
Death takes away the ones we love.
It leaves behind a void, one that may never again be filled.
Even if it is, the feeling is never the same again.

I have never lost any person I really loved.
My dad, mum and brother are all living with me.
The day my dad and mum depart will be the day there isn’t enough left for me to live for.
My brother would have a wife, and probably kids.
My girlfriend would have her family, and friends.
No one will need me anymore.
I can go in peace.

I had to bear with death more than once, and some really hurt.
My grandma was ill. I held her hands and controlled my tears. I knew she would be leaving.
Memories swarmed within me.
I missed the days I was a kid and she took great care of me. At night, she coaxed me to sleep. When I couldn’t reach the lights, she walked me to the bathroom, turned on the lights and waited for me.
She stood up for me. She honestly believed in me when others didn’t. She insisted I stayed in RI even after dad left his job and my fees were a burden.
She protected me. She let me play and conjured excuses for me.
All these feelings would never return.

I twice held death in my hands.
They were named Nollie and Pearto.
One never opened its eyes. The other survived two weeks.
I never want to relive those feelings again.

I can handle pressure, emotional stress and physical pain.
But I can’t bear losing one I love.
That, perhaps, is why I fear commitment.
I fear the feeling of losing someone to death.