Sometimes there are things I just can not verbalize. I can write about them, but if you want me to talk about it, I can't. I can feel the tears start in my throat and they choke the comprehension out of me. So I can't say that I need to see you alive and moving, so my final memory will not be of you in a coffin. I can't say that your sister is scared out of her mind, because the hospital you are in has a bad track record with our family. I can't say that doctors don't know if you will live or die, today or 3 weeks from now. I can't say that dying now would be the epitome of bittersweet because you are finally in a good place. I can't say that seeing you restrained to a bed and drugged up would be hard for me to see, because that contradicts the Marine I know you are. I can't say that if you die, I would mourn heavily because our family has really had enough death. I can't say that I understand your desire to die, because life has been unkind to you, and we as a family have been piss poor. I can't say that if you died it would send us 10 steps back because we ALL happen to be in a good place.

I can't say it. Any of it. It's too much for me.