Loving Death

My name is Kathy.

I am 412 years old. (Well, technically I am 412 in a half,) and I am in love with death.

Oh, but please don’t think that I am one of those crazy people that like the idea of people dying; its not like that at all.

I would never wish harm upon anyone; really, I wouldn’t.

I don’t get off on watching people suffer, it’s just that….well, I just envy those people SO much! And it’s all because they get to see him.

My love.

My dearest.

My Angel.

People like to think of Death as a horrible monster that likes to devour souls and kick puppies. But he would never do that.

He would never kick puppies.

I very clearly remember the day I had first met him. Oh yes, I could never forget.

I was dying, choking on an eggroll from my favorite Chinese restaurant.

I was convulsing horribly, my skin was turning blue, and my eyes had rolled into the back of my head in a most terrifying way.

I was scared. Very scared. But that was back when I was foolish enough to think that Death was something I should fear. But I know better now. Yes, yes I do.

I could never fear him. And if I could go back in time and thank that eggroll, I would.

 

As I felt the coldness of Pulchram-Mortem enter my bones, I saw a beautiful light, and then, the most beautiful person in the whole universe.

 
Oh! Just thinking about him is enough send my heart up into Heaven! No, farther than Heaven!

 

His ebony cloak flowed like a gorgeous moonless night; his scythe, beautifully curved and sharpened to perfection. 

 
And his face- Oh! His face! - was just the most beautiful bleached skull I had ever seen; his lightless empty sockets seem to look right into my soul.

“Fear me not, mortal.” He said. “For I will shepherd you to your paradise.”

 
My heart melted instantly at his words. 

 
“Now, come with me and-” A loud obnoxious beeping noise had spoiled my perfect moment. Death took out a cell phone from out of his cloak.

 
“Oh, sorry. Guess it’s not your time yet.” He shrugged and gave a little wave. 

 

“Well, later.” He said causally.

 

And just like that, I was ripped away from my first and only true love. When I had awoken, I was laying on my apartment floor, with my chubby neighbor hovering over me with the dumbest expression of concern on his face.

 

After that, I had made it my life’s work to see my cloaked angel again.

 

Where there was death, I would follow. Where there were deadly illnesses or people in horrible pain, I was there. 

 

I have been to many places because of this; I’ve been to war zones, car accidents, hospital ward rooms, I even haunted the suicide hotlines, all in the name of finding my true love.

 

Though unfortunately, My Love only shows himself to people who are actually dying, so I would have to patiently wait until a person’s last moments so I could ask:

                                                                                                
“What’s he wearing?”

 

“Is he thinking about me?”

 

“What’s his favorite color?”

 

“Does he like eggrolls? Eggrolls are my fave now.”

 

But sadly, they would die before I could get a reply from My Dark Beauty, so I would never know if he got my messages or not. I almost broke my heart. 

 

But I did not give up, because I just know that we are meant to be together.

 

Together, forever.

 

After I realized that talking to dying people was no good, I decided that the only was to see him again was to summon him myself.

 

The first time I tried was when I threw an electric toaster in to the tub. And it worked! I got to see him in all of his magnificent beauty.

But then he told me that it still wasn’t my time yet, so I panicked and said:

 

“No! I want to stay here with you! Forever! You want that too, right?”

 


He just tilted his head and said: “Yeah…that sounds just GREAT, But um…I’m just SO busy right know…sooooo I’ll see you later then. Bye.”

 

Then next thing I knew, I was back in my own tub with the fried toaster. I was so confused! Why had my love sent me back?

 

Then I realized something. He probably couldn’t stand the thought of me dying just to see him! He probably didn’t want to see me go through that kind of pain!

 

Oh! What a loving gentle soul he is!

 

But I still had to see him again. After all, we are soul mates! Meant. To. Be!

 

Since then, I have tried to kill myself 278 times. (Not counting the time I slipped on a marble and cracked my head open. That was a happy accident.)

 

But every time, he says the same thing to me:

 

“It’s not your time.”

 

“Stop trying to kill yourself.”

 

“Are you crazy?”

 

“Will you leave me alone?”

 

“Get some help lady!”

 

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

 

And then I would wake up in whatever broken position I had left myself in the living world last. 

 

One time, after I had been successfully mauled by a koala at our local zoo, I had asked My Love why he continued to send me back to the world of the living, he told me:

 

“Because I don’t want your crazy ass stalking me in the afterlife.”

 

And then he sent me back to my koala-scarred body on Earth.

 

My family (when they were alive, that is.) would constantly worry about my love for Death.

 

They would say things like “Your obsessed!” and they would call me crazy and a bunch of other mean things, but I didn’t care.

 

They could never understand our love. It is beyond the mere understanding of a mortal, for our love is infinite.

 

So for now, I will continue to reach out to My Darling Death, and someday he too will see that we are meant to be.

 

And then we will be together.

 

Forever.

 

And ever. 

 

(and ever.)