Waiting for death is nauseating. The uncertainty can churn your stomach. Not knowing if death will come in a few hours or a few days, if death slipped in while all was quiet and slipped back out equally unnoticed. The Book Thief did a great job of personifying death for me. It was an unplanned preparation for dealing with death. It's not death I'm afraid of. It's everything in between and after. And not knowing. And then knowing. I'm afraid of knowing.

Every text message from my cousin churns my stomach again. Heart stopping, remember to breathe, all for him to share he's cooking dinner. That's also scary, and the humor of my eldest paternal cousin cooking dinner, that deserves a chuckle. And a small smile.

The doctor's think it'll be tonight. I want to hold her soft hand before she's gone. There's no funeral. There's death and then ashes.

I want to hold her hand one more time before I pick up his hand.