Meeting Death

I remember meeting her before. It's quite funny actually, she stood out like a sore thumb yet no one really paid much attention to her, I suppose people get too preoccupied at times to notice the people around them. I know that I have, many times. Meeting her was definitely a defining moment in my life, I guess not many people can say that.

The first time I met her was at my grandmother's funeral, I wasn't even a teenager back then. I could barely understand death, let alone accept it. I loved my grandmother, she had been taking care of me since I was a baby. I was her first grandchild, she was very caring but very strict as well. She used to be the 'Bad Cop' to my grandfather's 'Good Cop'. It's only now that I see how "good" she really was. When we all found out she was sick, everyone was worried. I was speechless when I saw her in the hospital just laying there. She was so thin that I couldn't recognise her at first. I felt powerless.

I always had it in my head that she was always going to get better, there was no sickness that could ever take her away from us. Especially not this thing called 'Cancer'.

I was wrong.

The day she died was probably the saddest day of my life. It was quite surreal when I heard the news because I felt numb, I didn't know what to think or what to feel, the only thing I could feel was shock. Life just seemed permanently grey and ever so dull. Nothing looked good, food didn't taste the same and I began to feel really guilty because I remembered the petty little arguments I used to have with her. I couldn't remember the last conversation I had with her that didn't end in a fight. All I could do was replay every argument I could remember in my mind. Not one happy moment was ever brought up. The depressing thing is the fact I never said "sorry" to her and I won't have the chance to do so anymore, that sort of guilt was maybe all too much for an 11-year old to take.

At her funeral, our parents decided it was best not to let the children see her body. I somehow felt relieved at the time because I didn't want my last memory of her to be lifeless. Looking back now I wish I did because my last memory was just as bad. I needed to escape from all the sadness and sorrow. I found myself wandering outside the funeral parlour. It was a hot summer's day and there was not a cloud in sight, not the type of weather you would imagine at a funeral. I sat down at a bench nearby and as I was sitting there, all I could do was feel guilt and regret. Coming out of the funeral parlour was a girl, she was probably in her mid-twenties but all I really knew back then was that she was a grown up. She was holding up a black umbrella. She had a peculiar appearance, her skin was very pale, she had a weird pattern under her right eye drawn on with eyeliner and she had jet black hair with a slightly wild hairstyle. She wore a short black dress, long black boots, a very noticeable silver ankh around her neck. She looked at me and she gave me a soft smile. I ignored her smile and just started staring at the floor. She began walking towards me and she asked if she could sit on the bench. I shrugged and she smiled softly again sat down next to me. She closed her umbrella, slowly stretched her arms up in the air and raised her face towards the sky as if she was a flower turning towards the sunlight and absorbing its warmth.

"So... what's your name?" she asks, but I completely ignore her question and carried on staring at the floor. There was a somewhat awkward silence.

"You miss her don't you?" she asks in a very sympathetic tone.

I nodded and this time I responded, "Why couldn't I have been nicer to her when she was alive? I wish I could tell her that I am sorry. I never meant any of the nasty things I said to her."

She put her hand on my shoulder and I look towards her. She takes a long gaze into my eyes and then she gave me the same gentle smile again.

"You're a sweet boy, I am sure your grandmother knows how you feel and she loved you nonetheless. You should stop beating yourself up over it and just remember the good times you have had. If you just remember the bad times, then eventually that’s all you will remember of your grandmother and I am sure you don't want that to happen."

After she said this, she slowly got up and took another stretch towards the sun before she walked back into the funeral parlour. I closed my eyes and faced up towards the sun and absorbed the warmth and at that moment I had a flashback of the time I hurt my elbow when I was younger. I couldn't stop crying and sulking at the time and my grandmother spent hours trying to make me smile. She eventually cheered me up by giving me a big bowl of ice cream. I opened my eyes and for the first time in a long while, everything seemed a little brighter and slightly more colourful.

The second time I met this girl, it was during my 'I HATE everything phase' also known as my mid-teenage years. It was the end of summer and my family was hosting a big barbecue around our house. I don't remember what set me off but I remember feeling deeply upset and angry and blamed my parents for it. They were easy targets in my eyes because everything I did was never good enough for them or it felt like that anyway. I stormed into my room, slammed the door and I locked it.

I sat on the window sill overlooking the party outside. I was still angry and I began thinking about running away and never seeing anyone ever again. I even contemplated about jumping out of the window, thinking how guilty would my parent's feel if I jumped out and died, how not anyone would really miss me if I died. During that thought process, there was a knock at the door.

"Hello? Can I come in?"

It was a female voice that I didn't recognise but it felt really familiar. I was curious to see who it was so I opened the door and there she was, not even looking a day older than when I first saw her. This time she had a pair of sunglasses holding up her hair and she was wearing a black vest, a pair of tight black jeans and some little black boots. The ankh she had around he neck was notably smaller and less shiny than I remembered from our first encounter.

I was confused and slightly scared but she gave me that very sweet smile of her's and I began to relax.

"It's been a while. How have you been keeping?" she asks.

I shrugged and just mumbled, "Okay." I had a bunch of questions I wanted to ask her but I guess I was still too pissed off at my parents and I wasn't really in a talkative mood.

"So, why aren't you outside enjoying the party? Everyone else is."

I shrugged again and replied, "I dunno." I went to sit by the window sill again and looked outside, trying to do my thing and shut off everybody in the world.

She began looking around my room, "You know... looking around your room, you really don't do much do you. No sports, no hobbies, no books, only a few CD's and not many photos of friends."

I looked at her and said sarcastically, "Great! Add that to my list of failures. All the reason to stop living I suppose."

She walked right up to me, looked me in the eyes and I realised, that one sentence deeply upset her, it took the beaming smile from her face and replaced it with a deadly seriousness and she sternly responded, "All the reason to carry on living! Why would you end your life when you have not even started living it! All the great people I know started off being failures and had much harder lives than yours. Failure makes you stronger. Failure makes you learn. It's better to learn now than later, when it hurts more."

Her strong reaction surprised me. I was speechless, I wanted to say something back but everything I could to say just sounded like an excuse. She had pushed all the right buttons and I felt slightly ashamed. I took a good look around my room and like she pointed out before it looked rather plain. Her words had a huge impact on me and I started to think more about life and what living life is all about.

"I'm sorry" I said to her, "Maybe we should go back to the party now."

She gazed into my eyes, she gives me her sweet smile again and gives me a gentle kiss on the cheek and says, "You're a sweet boy. Remember that."

As I stepped out of my room, I turned towards her and I realised that she had vanished. It was a bizarre moment in my life but it definitely was a turning point in my life.

This is probably the last time I will see her. More than 50 years have passed since that day in my room. I didn't know for certain who or what she was but in my heart, I knew. I wasn't desperate to see her again but I did want to see her eventually. So here I am sitting next to her telling you, my first grandchild and what a wonder you are. I wish I had more time to see you grow up but I guess some wishes are just not meant to come true. You might not be able to understand me just yet but hopefully these words will stick around long enough for you to appreciate this fine young woman next to me.

She leans towards me and whispers the words that I didn't want to hear, but I knew were inevitable,

"It's time."

I look at her with a tear in my eye and I tell her with a deeply humble tone. "Thank you for letting me see my grandchild one last time."

She gives me her trademark smile and holds my hand, I guess all I have left to say is, "Goodbye."