Angel of Death
“Are you ready?”
No.
“I’ll wait for when you’re ready.”
…..
“Are you aware that you are choosing to suffer? You could release all of it if you allow me to enter your heart.”
….
“I want to tell you a story of our relationship. I have been keeping track of every interaction we’ve had. Are you willing to listen?”
…yes.
“Okay…”
I first met you in the womb of your mother. Even before your entry into the world, you were hesitant and full of doubt. Umbilical cord prolapse. You detached from your mother and presented a great danger to the yourself. The fetal support system, which provided you with nutrients and oxygen, you separated yourself from. This can result in a stillbirth.
Your due date arrived, but you did not. I waited with you. Waiting for you to let me know when you were ready. Two weeks later, you emerged. Healthy, strong, and filled with a purpose beyond what I’ve have ever witnessed. I knew with this purpose that surrounded you, you and I would meet often. Sometimes, when a person’s purpose in the world is stronger than they are, they need me around. I knew we would become close. You needed me.
You began your life, and I would watch from afar, only drawing close when you felt like your end was near.
Like the time your cousin touched you. And kissed you. And made you do things you were unfamiliar with at five years old. You had barely started school before she made you do those things. She was older than you. You didn’t know what was happening, or even who to tell. You felt hopeless, and unsure. You felt like you weren’t supposed to be there, and you wanted to leave, so I approached you. Your small hand took my index finger, and held it tight. I looked down at you and felt both reassurance and defeat. But abruptly, you let go of me and ran away into the arms of confusion. I could only let you do as you pleased.
I met you again when you knocked yourself out from running into the corner of a coffee table. You, in the most literally sense, poked your eye out. There was so much worry around you, that I couldn’t make my way to you to grab you. I kept trying to fight my way through, but the concern for your life from others, prevented me from getting close to you. I waited and watched as you whimsically played with the Angel of Life. You came to, and I walked away.
Years went by, and as I watched stress set into your life, I couldn’t help but wait. I watched as you were overwhelmed by being the glue for your family. I watched you make yourself sick from trying to make sure your family was fed and taken care of. I watched you struggle with the feelings that you had when you begin to like people. I watched him hit you. I watched you like her. I watched you begin to write your feelings out, and I saw how writing both healed you and hurt you. It felt good for you to write, but it hurt to see those feelings in the world —and not just in your head and heart. All these things were happening to you, and you weren’t even in high school yet. You were in middle school with the stress of 30 years of life on your shoulders, and slits of scars on your arms. Every time you took that knife to your arms, I watched you. Then one day, you held that knife to your stomach. I rested my hand on your shoulder. For the first time in my existence, I was afraid. I was afraid because my mission was greater than death. Your death, just life your life, is full of purpose.
My hand trembled on your shoulder, and as quickly as you picked up the knife, you placed it back on the ground. I walked away, but not far, because I knew, your most difficult years were still ahead of you.
Your life continued to have it’s ups and downs. The self-esteem issues, the abandonment, the feelings of inadequacy, the loss of one of your favorite cousin, the loss of your mentor, the loss of your grandfather, cancer, the divorce, the breakups, your self-pity, and your overdoses. This was just during your high school and college life. You still had more life to experience. I felt bad. I felt bad because I had never seen someone with so much weight on their shoulders, and still have capacity to hold more. You were truly remarkable to watch. I have watched you, and I have been watching you, even to this very moment.
You may have thought my presence was solely based on your death, but that is not entirely true. This place you are in now, this dark place is difficult for the both of us. Your suicidal thoughts and visions have been more frequent and vivid. This place you are in is a difficult one. You desire to not hurt anyone is ultimately hurting you. You’ve called the suicide hotline, and entered the chatroom a lot these last two months. I am not just hear for death, but I am here for resurrection.
There is a version of you that has to die, and I have been waiting to take that version of you with me since before you were born. Your hesitation and doubt to enter the world was supposed to die a long time ago. Your confusion about your feelings towards any potential lover was supposed to die a long time ago. Your hurt from being abandoned was supposed to die a long time ago. Your lack of self-love was supposed to die a long time ago. Your hurt from experiencing loss was supposed to die a long time ago. Your stress from being there for everyone and not allowing anyone to be there for you was supposed to die a long time ago. The darkness that you carry with you was supposed to die a long time ago. I have been watching and waiting for you to be ready to let the old version of you die. The old version of you has to come with me, so that the new version can be resurrected.
“So I ask you again, are you ready?”
a.
