Domestic Discord & My Fear of Dying Alone

Late, now in the last few days of my death
I packed my desk and drive through the leaves
And cannot sleep and cannot catch my breath.
No oxygen in a world of leafless trees.

My children are safe at a neighbor's home.
The hospice workers come in and unpack.
They tell me when I die I will not be alone
But they won't leave until I can't come back.

All those things I will never see again
In this life of long days and short years.
Now distant lightening hits. I feel pain.
Is it rain? Is it thunder? Is it tears?

Is the suffering unique? Is the fist uncurled
With my last breath as I inhale the world?