One year ago today I was in a much different place. My world was upside down and I was watching someone I loved struggle just to make it through each day. I wrote this in less than 10 minutes while sitting next to the bed where my stepdad was laying, fighting with stomach cancer. Twenty days later he was gone. It still brings tears to my eyes.

Death.

Everyone knows what Death looks like after it touches someone, after it releases its grip and snuffs the life out of someone we know or love.

Not everyone gets to see Death in action. If you haven’t be thankful.

I’m sitting here next to my stepdad, James, as he lays in bed, a shell of himself, surrounded by two of my nephews, my sister and my Mom.

Even though I can’t see it, somewhere in the room sits Death.

I know it’s here; its hands are wrapped around James, squeezing the life out of him, slowly and painfully.

This hurts more than when Death quickly takes someone we know and love.

I am helpless.

We all are for that matter.

Death is in control and knows it. It sits and smiles, enjoying the pain it’s causing.

All we can do is sit, watch, listen, and pray.

If I could see it I would fight. I would punch, kick, scratch and claw in an attempt to get it to let go of James, to release its grip ever so slightly.

We all would.

Death wouldn’t stand a chance. That’s why it hides from us.