Death

I am awed by death. It has a palpable presence at the moment it arises, and all of us instinctively recognize it, even with the death is not our own. I know not what ancient memory knows death, but we do.

Even now, as my partner watches his father die, I can feel it, and I am awed again. Months, perhaps years (if we are so lucky) before his father's death arrives, but I can feel it. I can see it there, unforgiving.

Palpable.