My Old Friend

So many people have so many different views on Death, here's mine.

I find the inevitability of Death a comforting fact, in that it is a fact. Every single person on this big blue planet will die one day. That is a commonality that the human race has found solace in, that no matter who we are we must meet the same fate. Misogynist, feminist, white supremacist, freedom rider, all of these people will join together under the banner of Death in the end and they will finally be at peace with each other. I think that's exceptionally beautiful.

You may view Death in many different ways. You can see it as an annoying fly buzzing around the room as you lay dying, like what Emily Dickinson wrote of. Maybe you will see what Sylvia Plath did when she attempted suicide, a dark and welcoming void. Perhaps Death is an annoying raven cawing out “Nevermore” as you wallow in misery with Edgar Allen Poe.

Me? I see Death as an old friend, one I have known through all my lives. My life, is simply a road I travel to his house. Sometimes the road is longer than usual, sometimes shorter, but through all my travels, I always find my way back. I cherish my journeys, as long or short as they may be, every one I have lived to the fullest.  But even so, I am constantly reminded as to where I am going and I feel a painful drop in my stomach as I stop in my tracks. Though I resolve myself enough to continue on.

Finally when I make it to the end of the path I see a large home that seems old and run down, yet it looks like a mansion to me. I walk up the creaky steps, hearing the deafening squeak of each footstep break the eerie silence of the house. I walk to the porch, I see an old rocking chair covered in a thin layer of dust, it looks as though it hasn’t been used in ages. My lips pull back into a loving smile as I sit in the familiar chair, closing my eyes as I hum a light hearted tune. Suddenly I hear the door open slowly, and the footsteps that get closer and closer to me. I relax against the hand that grips my shoulder as the person lean down to my ear and whispers in a soft voice, “What took you so long this time?”

My family gathers around me as I lay on my bed. They all have looks of sorrow on their faces and look down on me with pity. My expression contrast theirs, a soft smile etched onto my lips as I clutch onto the soft fabric of my comforter. I hear someone tell me goodbye, another tells me they love me, another that they will miss me. I look at their faces one last time, for next time it will be a new family looking upon me at the last part of my journey. I hear a small voice ask where I’m going.

My smiling lips open just enough to say a single phrase, “I’m going to go see an old friend.”

Author's Note

Anything you want to mention!