When Death Comes Like a Thief in the Night

I miss them. I do.

Tre L. Loadholt
Aug 22 · 6 min read
Photo by Lucxama Sylvain via Pexels

woke up crying a couple of nights ago. My head was aching. My stomach had knots in it I could not reduce or massage away. Their voices rang in my head — each one of them begging me not to forget them. And how could I? I have not. I never will. When death comes, it enters like a thief in the night — snatching up your last breath. Death has one agenda; kill…