What I Fear Most

What I fear most

is a lack of collaboration

mind, body,

spirit, if it exists,

bowing out at different times

Dad did it right

sang me a song

the day before he died

mind still clear

walked and talked

and only lay down

to give us a heads up

it was time to say

so long

I fear being unable to

talk or walk

when my mind is sharp

unable to say,

I love you

Take care of each other

Feed the dog

Think I’ll die now

Or worse

to exist in forgetfulness

to grieve my missing mind

not knowing if the person who says

“I love you, Mom,” is really my child

or an imposter

to strike out in anger and frustration

at visitors who don’t want to be there

or the caretaker who changes my diaper

I fear wanting to die and being kept alive

I fear lingering until friends and family

members hate themselves for contemplating murder

I fear there will be no partner to pull the plug

What I fear most

is a lack of collaboration.