Roll wit it.

Riding home from the Christmas celebration with my immediate family this wintery night, I stared out the car window. The drifting snow looked like smoke moving slowly along the roads; the music that was playing was both eery and ethereal. The woman sang about how someone who had passed on was their angel. Being the person I am, I started to think about all those who I have loved, who have passed on. Staring at the drifting snow was the only thing holding back my tears. I heavily thought about my one remaining grandfather, and how I know his time here is limited. He is fading away, faster everyday. I've always tried to move as far away from death as possible. I remind myself each person is in a better place, out of their pain, resting in the arms of someone who can comfort them better than anyone else ever could. Yet, I've come to realize how I fear death. Not necessarily my own, but of those I love.
Yes, losing those you love hurts. It cuts deeper than any blade ever could. Anyone who has lost someone knows that.
But I've always held onto my beliefs.
Now, the questions creep in..."What if the things I believe aren't right? What next?"
This, this is what I need to shake.