Death My Friend, A Halloween Special

It feels like forever the last time I saw Death
He doesn't come to visit me anymore
No longer does he pass in the thunder of the rain
I've called upon him, cried out for him
Questioned him, once more like a lost child
I asked him why I remain while others are left behind.

He once brought me answers
Now I feel his silence and his space
I wanted more than I could handle
And so he left me to my own devices

I think about him quite often
Wondering when I will see him again
Many years have passed and his tea cup collects dust on the shelf
Maybe he knows I wait for my own end
And that is why he no longer visits
For the next time we do meet, it will be my end

Because there's something about his gentle release
Something I longed for in my chaotic life
For a moment of kindness, a gentle touch
As if he was the only one who could bring me peace, the silence i yearned for

Then my grief returns briefly to remind me
Sometimes its a blessing not to see him
Because I'm unsure if my heart can take another loss
But I remember the Graveyard I was once lost in
And know time will take me too one day
All the years I spent grieving for strangers
And not for my loved ones

I made a home in that Graveyard
Where I could quite find a place to call home
I feel like the caretaker some days
Replacing all the dead flowers of strangers
And cleaning their overgrown-mossy graves

Because part of me believes i owe them that much
Having been unable to save them
I try to carry on their stories and their legacies
As if in the only one who remembers them
But I was the only one there at their end.
That much is true

I have become a culmination of stories that are no longer my own
The lines have become blurred where I start and they begin
Maybe that is why I find it so difficult to understand who I am.
Somehow being guided by their failures and mistakes
During each season of my life
Contuining to change my story forever


If Death were here I would ask him why
Why after all this time
He continues to do his duty above all else
But giving more than what was asked of him.

Is he like sisyphus?
Does he find happiness in the absurd nothingness of life
Finding purpose in doing what he must
What was asked of him from his birth.

Because I could never be that person
I felt like God asked too much of me at times
And I know even more was asked of Death
How does one carry the burden alone?


How does one spend an eternity wandering?
Never knowing what they are looking for?
Will there ever be an end , is there an end for Death?