Making Friends with Death

Death sits just over my left shoulder, guiding and advising in every moment. A companion with me from the moment of conception, maybe before.

He always asks me, “If you were to die at this very moment what would you regret doing or not doing?”

And I say, “I would regret not loving more, especially in those moments it was most difficult to love. I would regret spending so much time focusing on the future or struggling over the past that I missed being alive in the only moment I was alive to experience, the present. I would regret not looking longer at the people I love. I would regret spending so much time thinking that there was some way things are supposed to be that I missed out on the beauty of things as they are.”

And Death says, “I’m here beside you, I could take you at any moment. And since I am not taking you in this moment, will you love more? Will you be present? Will you look longer? Will you appreciate the beauty of all as it is? Or will you wait until the moment I take you by the hand to realise you have not lived as you would have wanted to?”

And I say, “For as long as I know you are beside me, I will remember to love more, and look longer, and be present, and bask in the beauty of all as it is. But sometimes Death, I can’t see you and I forget that in some moment you will take me by the hand. And when I lose sight of you, I lose sight of all that is important to me.”

And Death says, “Well, dear soul, this is why I ask you to become my friend and companion, as I am yours. Not to cower from me, but to talk to me, sit with me, love me for all that I give to you. For without me, life and love are no longer precious.”

He always asks me, “If you were to die at this very moment, would you be content with the life you’ve lived thus far?”

And I say, “I am content with the life I’ve lived since I felt you on my shoulder. I didn’t truly begin to live until I realised I was walking with you. When I couldn’t face you, I couldn’t take stock of what was really important to me, I couldn’t grasp what it meant for me to be alive. If I’d have accepted you sooner I could have gotten a lot more love done, this is my only discontent.”

And Death says, “All you are is in this moment, every moment you have lived so far is encapsulated in this moment. If you can be content in the moment that you take my hand, then you’ve done all you need to do in this life. If you walk with me as friend, as companion, in each moment you will remember to live as though you are about to take my hand, and you will act in a way that allows you to take my hand with joy and contentedness.”

And I say, “I welcome you as my companion, and I will walk with you always. I will fill each moment with as much love and acceptance and presence as possible. And when the time comes to walk with you from this state to the next, it will be like walking home with an old friend, to all those souls that took your hand before I did.”

Death sits just over my left shoulder, a friend, walking me home.