Fear isn't bound by what's possible and what's not.

It can be mental

...Physical...

...Spiritual.

I was exposed to fear at a young stage of my life,
it flowed throughout my veins and saturated my very pores.

This fear...of the unknown.

The fear of never being enough.

The fear of living up to the expectations of those around you.

My fear angers me.
It grips and tears at my heart as I claw at my throat in pure self frustration.

I want to yell. To curse and spit at my fear.

But I can't...because all I see is her.

I revert back to the child that lost the most influential person in her life.

That wonderful...angelic woman who altered my life the moment we met...and the last day we said goodbye.

The pain morphed into a deep depression that I didn't think possible for such a young girl like myself at the time; to lose an aunt and fill your heart and mind swirl into a whirlwind of questions with no answers.

When I finally thought I had overcome the loss of my God mother and aunt; another left me.

Someone so beautiful and pure...she didn't deserve the hell she was put through.

She needed more time...to remember.

To remember our times watching classic children movies.
To remember our walks around Queens and down a few blocks to a park.
To remember the pancake song and so many others that she would make up just to entertain me...

My grandmother...my saint.

Only recently I lost another, yet it was different than the other two.

I was there to witness her downfall. It shook my heart to it's very core as she yelled and cursed at me in a dazed and terrified state.

I will never forget my last moments with her. But the good outweigh the bad by thousands.

She was the definition of strength, endurance, beauty.
She was so strong...God she was so strong.

So strong that even after a life time of being in and out of the hospital with the constant toll of pills to aid her, she always seemed to full of life.

I can still recall the last time I said goodbye to her.
She remembered who I was, even in her withering mind.

She said..."I love you Tabby."

They didn't need to go. Or at least in that way.

The first one I lost, left too young.

The second had the right to at least remember who her family was...but wasn't given the chance.

And the third...I would make a deal with God and get him to swap our places so she could experience how it felt to walk...run...and be free.

My fear isn't death...or at least not anymore.

My fear is not being enough...for them.

Failing at life and not giving their influence and teachings the respect it deserves.

My three fears.
My three broken hearts.

I fight for them everyday.
I crawl and drag my way through life because I know that they want me to be more.

I put my damnest into school because I want them to look down at me from wherever and be proud.

I made each of them a promise to be good, so I spit at the cursed fear of failing these three women and I fight.

Because if I couldn't help them then; I can at least give them something to smile about.