The meaning of death

You dare not close your eyes. When you do, you can see him. Your hero, your protector. Weak, pale. Translucent. You wonder where he is, as you see the other families outside in the park, you look again, because a miracle might have happened, and it is you and him. You pray silently. You scream on the inside. For the miracle where he holds your hands and soothes your sorrow.  Your welcomed but  restless sleep does not allow you to forget. Instead, the loneliness seeps out of your pores in a restless slumber. Leaving an invisible trace of the struggles at night. You smell it. The second you wake. You reach out for him. Knowing too well that it is the smell of loneliness and of grief.

You wash the sheets. You pray in silence. You scream. For a miracle.

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