When Death comes

One second Death is a car crash and then he is a loaded gun held by shaking hands. A second later, he stands in front of me. He is sick. He has forgotten how to sing. I am afraid that he has lost himself to the wind and to frail men who die with empty minds. No one who dies, nowadays, has any love left in their bones. It's my job to make it like that. As Life I’m supposed to only let the sad men die and to let drained flowers wilt.

I figured, maybe, if I let the things that I loved die, then Death would catch them and hold them dear for me. Maybe I could love him through these loved, but dying, things. I wish he could hold them and let my love scare his loneliness, his malaise away.

I’m standing in front of a dying child. She is only four, the walls of her hospital room are adorned with butterflies. I can feel her love sway with the beat of her slowing heart. I know she will pass over soon. I know that Death will be there to catch her.

Her mother stands over her as if she’s an open grave. All she can see is her bundle of joy that I gave her when she held her baby girl that first night. She loved her through every Chemo appointment and even now her love helps her sickness. Her love lets her baby’s heartbeat just a little while longer. Her love will let Death’s heart beat just a little while longer.

I do not understand why people seem to lose their will to love when they die. There are so many people who die like empty caskets. So, I let the baby, Emma, go and I watched her giggle her way past the veil. I see Death stand there with open arms, he seems happier. His loneliness has left him, and for the first time, I see him smile.

The heart monitor slows, then... Beep-

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