Eternal Leap

A poem I wrote when my friend's dad died.

I lay awake at night
and wonder whyI stair at my wrist
and ask how?
I stare across the roomat HIM.
His pain, it must be
worse than mine.
Yet,
he lives, and breathes.
Yet,
my pain is the lesser,
and I die each day and suffocate.
Every morning and every night,
I think of that eternal flight.

Should I make that last leap?