I watched cancer kill my sister a few months after she graduated from college. At first it affected her physically. She wasn't able to stand, which was annoying for things around the house, but it was okay in the grand scheme of things. Dad and I were still able to take her to her favorite places for some of her favorite Christmas traditions. She still found joy.

Shortly after, it affected her mentally. She would remember games from her childhood that she wanted to play, but wasn't able to grasp the rules. She was mentally-aware enough to know what she used to be capable of, but lacked the short term memory to do it at that time. Nothing has broken me more, and this is the part of death that terrifies me. Being trapped as a prisoner of your own failing mind.

She wasn't trapped for long. It's weird to think about, and I'm not sure if it's easy to relate to without experiencing it, but I felt more relief than sadness when she passed away. I had been sad for a long time, and still was, but she wasn't in pain for the first time in 6 months. She was no longer being tortured by her own body. I cried, but I was thankful. Grief is easy compared to watching someone you love lose more of themselves every day, especially when you can't do a damn thing about it.

I'm not afraid of being dead, but I am afraid of what happens leading up to it. Being dead is effortless, it takes its toll on the people who are left behind.