Living With My Greatest Fear

 

People often ask me about my greatest fear. As an atheist, I do not fear divine punishment or the unknown. My fear is very human and painfully simple. It is the fear of losing my parents. It is not something I say lightly. It is a fear I have carried for as long as I can remember. Not yesterday, not today, not any day am I ready to face that reality.  

Yesterday something as ordinary as a wire lying on the ground brought this fear rushing back to the surface. The wire was barely noticeable, lying there as work continued in our home. I stepped over it without a thought. My mom however, stopped. She paused, stared at it, and took a hesitant step. It was not the step I would have taken. It was slow, calculated, unsure.  

That moment stayed in my mind. It made me notice more. The way she climbs stairs now, slower than before. The way she squints to focus on things, her once sharp vision now dulled. The way her energy fades faster, her movements no longer quick but careful. I started seeing these small shifts everywhere. They are subtle but unmistakable.  

It hurts to see these changes. To watch her, someone I once thought of as indestructible is slowly losing her strength. To see the years catching up to her, and by extension to my father as well. It is like watching a clock tick louder in a quiet room, reminding me that time is moving forward whether I want it to or not.  

I wish I could unsee these signs. I wish I could stop noticing the way their steps weaken, the way they sometimes forget things, the way they sit down more often now. But I can not. Every small moment feels like a reminder of something inevitable, something I fear more than anything.  

I know I can not stop time. I know that one day the fear I have always carried will no longer be a fear but a reality. I know it will hurt in ways I can not even imagine. And yet I find myself haunted by it even now.  

Maybe this is how it is meant to be. These little changes tells that time is moving, forcing me to see what I am afraid to face. Perhaps they are here to make me cherish what I have left, or maybe there is no meaning at all. All I know is that it is happening, and no matter how hard I try to avoid it, I can not stop it. I will have to accept it and that is the hardest truth to bear.