Morbid and creepifyin'

I was never really a fruit person before I got sick. I didn't dislike fruit, it was just something I never really thought to eat. Now that I am sick, and I've discovered I can eat several fruits with wild abandon without it making me even a teensy bit ill, suddenly I am a fruit LOVER. I eat it almost everyday. The water content always seems to settle my stomach, too, which helps immensely.

Speaking of which, water has also become Super Awesome. I'll wake up in the morning, have the first half a cup of coffee and go "I should drink some water. I'm not very thirs-" (lifts the glass of water to my lips and begins drinking) "OMG WATER IS SO TASTY!" (Drains the glass in a single go).

It's funny (sad, not ha-ha). Here I am, definably the sickest I've ever been in my life, and actively practicing some of the healthiest habits I've ever had in my life. Also, spellcheck thinks "definably" is not a word, but Google disagrees. Screw you, spellcheck. Definably IS a word. (And if it's not, it should be. Why? Because I said so!)

I wish I had something more substantial to write about. I have this...thing...about Death rolling around in my head, but I'm not sure how coherent it is. All my life, people have said I've been a little obsessed with Death. And they're right - it's one of my favorite things to think of, in morbid, whimsical ways. Not surprisingly though, coming so close to Death changed the way I think about it.

I'm still not afraid of it, but there is a nervousness about it that wasn't there before. Seems a total DUH statement, but for some reason, it shocks me. There's a biological side to my thought process about Death that wasn't there before. The whole "shutting down of internal organs" thing, a process that I would not have noticed at all.

The gentleness, the calm, I would have passed on in is both comforting and terrifying. Comforting because my biggest fear about Death is that it'll hurt, and terrifying because it's something I would have not have noticed - and one would think you'd want to know something as Big as dying was occurring.

In my youth, I was not at all afraid of Death. As I got into my 30's, I realized that I might become more afraid of it as I got closer to it. That hunch turned out to be correct.

Santa Meurte was not there that night. She had come to me in my dreams when Giles died, standing above him while I bent down and petted him and gave him my final goodbyes. She stood silent, sad but eyes deep with compassion, and then they both turned and walked away. I woke up feeling as if I had finally been allowed to put that death behind me.

She did not show herself that night with me or any nights further. I guess it really wasn't my time, or anyone's time. Or maybe she didn't speak or move through me, but through Jesse, who called 911, or my father, who also urged Jesse to call 911 that night, even as all outward signs pointed towards "All Quiet On The Western Front."

I'm not spiritual, and my feelings towards Death have changed. But I still identify closest with her, the patron saint of Death. The relationship just feels...changed somehow. I'm still puzzling out how.

I still wear her around my neck. She comforts me.

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Death becomes a strange topic if you happen to get into close contact with it...