I wonder if I’m the only one that can see it. It’s pretty stereotypical to the depictions throughout history, so I wonder if maybe there were and are others. It makes me think that all the fantastical creatures, monsters, and beasts we see in movies didn’t actually come from imagination. Just from people who could see things that others couldn’t… Maybe it’s a mixed bag of both. If that’s true and people see things like fairies and unicorns, how lucky for them. Maybe we all see things and we just don’t share that information out of fear that others will think we’re crazy. I don’t think you’re crazy until you tell someone. I hope by telling you all this, you’ll call me crazy. I can see death and death has seen me.
The first time I saw death was when I was seven and staying with my grandparents during the summer. My parents always took a parents only vacation every year. My grandma said it helped them stay in love. I wonder if she saw cupid readying his arrow as they dropped me off. She was right though. They’d come back from their yearly trips, deeper in love than when they left.
That summer my grandma left this world. I saw the moment she did. It was late at night. We’d always stay up watching old movies together. It would get late and she’d lay down and fall asleep on the couch. I’d be cradled in the crook of her legs. This time, she’d fallen asleep while we were watching a movie about a detective investigating the mafia. She always snored, not loud, but with enough volume so you’d notice. It approached from the left side of the room. It didn’t walk into my vision as much as it just appeared mid stride. It was a pitch black figure in a robe. There’s an instinct, buried deep within our subconscious that comes out in these moments, or at least that’s what I believe. This instinct said be afraid, don’t move, don’t make a sound, and don’t look. I kept my eyes focused on the TV as it glided across the room, in front of the TV, and to the side of the couch just out of view.
Silence has a presence and emptiness can fill a space. My grandma stopped snoring and slowly rose up towards the thing. I never turned away from the TV but I could feel her and it as they moved away. It would be another five minutes before I had enough courage to stop looking at the TV. When I did, I turned my head to face my grandma, laying right where she’d always been. She was gone though, I knew it. Death has a feeling and I felt it that night. I would spend the rest of the night nestled in the crook of my grandma’s legs. In the morning I would feel sadness as my grandfather gently nudged me awake. He had tears in his eyes. That emotion would always arrive soon after death.
I wouldn’t see death in person again until 15. It was the first football game of the year. We were up 14 and about to push the team into 4th down. My best friend started defense and I played offense. He played safety, the last line of defense. He wasn’t the best at tackling but could break-up a pass, something fierce. They had five more yards to go for the first down. They ran it for a big gain. The running back and Chris met in the middle, both with heads full of steam. Chris put his head down before impact. The play ended in a silence that seemed to last forever. Death appeared again, out of nowhere. That same subconscious cold chill shot itself through my body. Don’t speak, don’t move, don’t look. But this time, I did look, how could I not? This is going to sound crazy but do you know those movies where someone either dies or has an out of body experience? They seem to just float up out of their bodies and then look at themselves, still sitting where they were. That’s kind of what happened here except Chris didn’t float, he was grabbed.
Now that it wasn’t a dark room I could see it clearly. It was around 8 feet tall with that fucking scythe the same size as it’s body. It had those freakishly bony hands. A hood covered its head. It flipped the scythe upside down and plunged it into Chris’s chest and pulled him out of his body. Chris rose, kicking, flailing, screaming in pain. Or at least that’s what his face led me to believe. He didn’t make a sound but I could feel it. Hot tears arrived on my face. I screamed, I screamed so loud. Death turned its head up from Chris and looked at me. Abyss is the only word I can use to describe looking into its hood. Then they disappeared and I could hear my own screams. The trainers ran out to the field. My screams were soon joined by his parents in the stands.
The last time I’d see death would be in my Moms hospital room when I was 29. She had been on the losing side of a battle with cancer. The doctor gave her a month. My father had been by her day and night in the hospital for what felt like the last 2 months. I told him to go home and get some sleep, I would stay with mom. That night death would come again. I was sitting in a chair right near the hospital bed facing my mom. I was holding her hand. She used to be a force of nature but now she felt so frail. I was looking at her when that cold chill came again, and silence could be felt. Death was on the other side of the bed, hovering over my mom. I remembered Chris. I stood up and tried to push it away but froze before my hands could make contact. I looked up towards its head and stared deep into the abyss behind the hood. I was filled with anger. I was there when it took my grandma. I saw it take Chris. It would not take my mom in that way. I yelled at it to leave, to forget about my mom. My yells turned to begs, which turned into sobs, which turned into silence.
I fell to my knees crying into my hands. Death moved from the side of the bed over to me. It knelt down. I could feel it beckoning me to raise my head to it’s. I tried to resist but I was powerless. As I stared into that abyss, its hood slowly moved back to expose its face. I was looking at the true face of death… I… I learned how I would die in that moment, or at least how I would have died. Next to my wife in old age. We’d go the same night, not leaving the other alone from a moment on this earth. That’s how I would have gone. Now, I.. I don’t want to say how I’ll die. Death was pleased with the information it had imparted. Happiness and anger, all wrapped into one emotion. That’s what I felt from it. It stood back up and made its way back across the bed. It made me look at it as it tore its scythe into her body, violently removing what soul she had left. She looked at me, terrified and screaming. I could hear the screams this time. I laid on the ground crying through the night. I wouldn’t stop until a nurse came in the room the next morning and found me sobbing in the fetal position. Tears no longer flowing.
I know how long I have left and I know how I go. I’m telling you this now because I want to be crazy. I lay awake every night remembering what death showed me. It’s the only thing I see when I shut my eyes. I’m going to beat it to the punch though. I’d rather skip to the finish line of screaming on its scythe rather than lay around waiting for the death that is to come. So I’m writing this for anyone else who might think they’re crazy because they see death just like I have. Just like I will. Don’t speak, don’t move, and don’t look and death will come and go. If you should feel the desire to, just know, death will look right back at you.