How do I move on from this thing called Death?

His never ending sniffing at my neck.

I lay in bed trapped by his chilling breath,

Stilled, while He makes His nightly bedtime check.

Carefully, He picks them off, one by one.

He chooses those closest to my heart strings,

Like a child torturing ants in the sun.

He shoos them off on Heaven's angel wings.

And though He's taken those I loved the most,

He has left me with a life to live free.

Just enough life to be a lethal dose,

Stirring me to be who I'm meant to be.

While Death bides His time, waiting for his due,

I'll live boldly and loudly 'til adieu!