The following is an exerpt from a poem I wrote when I found out my mother had cancer back in 1998:
As a child on vacation,
I had to endure many hours on the road.
Mom always told me to lie down and go to sleep,
and when I woke up, maybe we'd be at Grammy's house.
I wonder if that is what it's like to die?
When we wake up, we'll be at Grammy's.
The journey passes with our father at the wheel.
Our only job is to rest while he takes care of us.