All I ask is for death to offer me a hand for I fear my end will be lonely. I fear that my memory will live on like a souvenir hanging on the rack at some out-of-busniess circus gift shop collecting dust, never to be picked up again.
I don't know why we fear death, always have I seen death as a companion through to the other side.
So you don't have to go alone.
Maybe death will take our hand and at that moment all of our fears, pains, worries, and barriers melt away.
Maybe you gaze upon death's face in sheer amazement for the immense nothingness engulfing the senses.
Maybe nothing happens and there is no meaning to all of this. But...