Written by anthonyrosania
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Tags: Death

Sunday, 28 November 2010

image for I Want To See My Daughters Cry.

I want to see my daughters cry. I want to look down, across my chest, and see them surrounding my deathbed, staring at me, crying.

I am preoccupied with my death. I had children so late; I was 38 when my oldest daughter was born. I am 41 years older than my youngest, and 14 years older than my wife. I constantly feel like the grandfather playing daddy, a father and husband a generation older than they deserve.

I am preoccupied by how lonely death is. No matter how many people are around you, holding your hand, you are about to go on a journey that no one knows how it begins or ends --not for sure-- and there's no f--king way anyone gets to go with you.

I am preoccupied with dying in a mangled car, or the victim of a stray bullet. I am afraid that my last breaths will feed oxygen to a brain that is screaming in pain, smothered in fear, and crushed under the abject sadness of wanting my wife and three children to be with me, crying as my life slips away.

And having nothing with me but this preoccupation.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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