As I lay dying my mind began to wander. Would Death come for me? Would he appear with his dark robe, the scythe, the grinning skull in the black hood? Would he take me to Heaven, Hell, or someplace that was neither? Would it hurt when my time came to die? My mental meanderings were halted when a figure entered the room; a figure in black.
It was all true. He wasn’t just a literary personification of the state of non-being. He was real. But I looked again and noticed that some things were not the same as my mental picture. There was no one-piece robe but a cape with some form of dark green attire underneath. No reaper’s scythe he carried, but a simple staff. The form inside the hood was clothed in flesh. He started toward me. When he reached my bed, he lifted his hand and pushed back the hood. It was then that I realized that it was a woman.
“Are you ready to go?” She whispered.
“Who are you?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“I am a courier of souls,” she replied. “I come to take those that are through with this life to the next. I am the last kindness known to this world.”
“How did you come to be?” My voice was steadier now. Her blue eyes locked on my own and seemed to sear my mind.
“You are the first person to ever ask me that.” She stared at me as though judging how much time I had left and how much she could spare. “Fine,” she finally said. “I will tell you.” She leaned her staff against the wall, removed her cape, and folded it in her hands before sitting in the chair by my bed revealing long, dark brown hair in a braid down her back and a stately green dress. Thus settled, she began.
“Death comes to all,” she started. “There are no exceptions. Every thing that lives must die. Some come to terms with death, some don’t. One being was destined to walk the earth, neither living nor dead, to carry the souls of the dead to the afterlife. He was known by many names such as Thanatos, Lord Death and the Grim Reaper. He walked the earthly plain alone and for centuries he watched loved ones cry bitterly at being separated and weep tears of joy at being reunited on the other side. Eventually he became lonely but could find no particular person with which he wanted to share eternity. He knew that no-one would give up their friends and families to be with him and almost everyone was afraid of him anyway.
One day he came for a young woman named Amanda who did not cry or wail or plead for more time. She merely looked at the tall man in front of her with his black hair and eyes, and the black cloak over his dark red shirt. ‘I had so wanted to live and have a great adventure,’ she said softly. ‘But if I am to die, let it be without any blubbering.’
‘Don’t you want more time?’ he asked, confused by her composure.
‘I suppose I would tell my friends I love them one more time.’ His black eyes studied her.
‘I shall return in one week. Say your goodbyes.’ And with that he left. As he went about his duties he pondered his own decision. He had never before given time to someone who hadn’t asked and even then it was never more than a day in order to prepare a will or call in the family for the funeral. He had never given a whole week before. Perhaps it was the fact that she didn’t have a nervous breakdown like most people her age usually did. Frankly, he didn’t know why he did what he did and it ate at him until he went back after the week was up.
As he entered the house he heard someone singing. It was a song about the warmth of the sun, the sound of the wind, the scent of a flower, touched with dew. It was a song about the joys of life no matter how small. He waited until it was over then entered the room where the singer was. The singer was Amanda.
‘Are you ready to go?’ he asked abruptly. She turned to him.
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘I was ready last time you came and I am ready now.’
‘Tell me about your week.’ If she was startled by this demand, she did not show it.
‘I told my friends I loved them as I said I would.’ She laughed briefly. ‘When I told one of them that I loved him he got all nervous and asked my to marry him. I told him I would think about it. I also made out a will for the repossession of my belongings for when I die.’
He stood in silent thought for a few moments. ‘I will give you one more month,’ he finally said. ‘Be happy.’
Throughout the month he questioned his actions. What was the matter with him? Why did he respect this one woman as he had not respected anyone else? Great rulers demanded more time and never got it. Princes, priests, and paupers had all begged for more time to live and few had ever received it. Why had he given so much time to someone who did not even want it? Was it that he wanted her to be happy? What was this Amanda to him anyway? He put the thoughts out of his head and concentrated on his job.
Finally, the month ended and he went back to Amanda’s house. This time she was in her chair reading a book. When he entered, she lowered her book and smiled at him. ‘Hello, Lord Death,’ she called across the room to him. ‘Do you always come in unannounced?’
‘It has been a month,’ he said. ‘Tell me about it.’ She put aside her book and stood up.
‘I told my life-long friend that I would marry him. The next day, a letter came calling him away. We both knew he would never return but he vowed he would come back for me. I told him it was a promise I would not let him keep and that he should go and find a woman out in the world to make him happy and to think of me only as a childhood sweetheart. Now he is gone and I am ready to die as I was the first time we met.’
‘I thought you wanted an adventure,’ he said.
She smiled at him. ‘To die would be quite the adventure,’ she said.
‘Would you sing for me?’ he asked
Despite the odd request she merely nodded and said, ‘As you wish.’
She sang of the cool graveyard; the trees casting long shadows as the sun sets. Her words painted a picture of a group of mourners, their sorrow bringing them together as they walk the path toward healing. She sang of the peace that death brings and the knowledge that our loved ones are waiting for us in a place where there is no pain. At the end of the song Lord Death had reached a conclusion.
‘Amanda,’ he said tentatively. ‘Would you be my wife?’
‘Why?’ she asked, more than confused.
‘Because you are not afraid of me, and I am lonely.’ The last bit was said more to himself than to her. She thought about that for a minute.
‘My father died soon after I was born,’ she said. ‘I have watched at least one loved one die almost every year. So in a way you have been with me since the first, watched me grow up, followed me since my first breath. Yes, I will go with you and be your companion.’
Since then, Lady Death has helped Thanatos ferry the souls of the dead to the afterlife. And the loneliness they both felt, her in life and he in death, was finally abated.” She fell silent.
“Quite the story,” I said.
“Quite the adventure,” she replied with a grin.
“Thank you for telling it to me,” I said. “It certainly eases the fear.”
She stood up, donned her cloak, and took up her staff. “Are you ready to go now?” she asked me quietly.
“Yes, I believe I am.” And with a gentle smile she reached down, and stopped my breath.