I was first introduced to Death in 1964 when my sister Delores died. I didn't realize then that I would come to have a personal relationship with him but our paths have crossed several times since then. The last time I saw Death was a little over three years ago when I was driving through the intersection of Woodcroft and Fayetteville and my car was struck full-on by a car rushing through a red traffic light.
"GOOD MORNING," he said, in a friendly enough though slightly raspy and very heavy voice, like a lead anchor, dragged across a cement driveway.
"Do you think this is funny?" I demanded and yes I meant it to sting. I have known this Death for many years but he is not a friend.
"IT'S MY JOB," he said, "AND IT'S THE ONLY THING THAT GIVES ME PURPOSE." Then in a slightly different tone, as though he were a next-door neighbor, he asked, "ARE YOU WELL?"
"Well? Am I well? I may have been well until a tenth of a second ago when that DART bus decided that 'twere well I was smacked into."
"YOU MEAN, IF 'TWERE DONE, 'TWERE WELL IT 'TWERE DONE QUICKLY," he said as though he liked to get it right. And then, still seeming to look for the lighter side, he rephrased, "IF 'TWERE SMACKED INTO, 'TWERE WELL IT 'TWERE SMACKED INTO WITH NOBS ON." He didn't laugh but he did grin, although he really doesn't have a choice about grinning.
"Not impressed," I said. "Not impressed with your knowledge of Shakespeare and not impressed with your humor." Remember, I was not shying away from stinging. When you're face to face with death, you have little to lose.
"IT WAS A FORD ECLIPSE," he said, "NOT AN AUTOBUS."
That's what he said. Autobus. I remember thinking how odd it was. I let it go because things were progressing rapidly and suddenly I was standing before a pair of very large, very solid-looking doors--I'm sure they were oaken, not oak, but oaken--with a pair of brass rings large enough for basketballs to fit through.
"What's that?" I said.
"I THINK YOU KNOW," he said.
"Death's doors," I said. "I'm not opening them," and I said it emphatically.
"BUT ONCE YOU ASKED TO ENTER," he protested.
"That was a long time ago. A lot has happened since then."
"IT'S INTERESTING," he said, "HOW HUMAN BEINGS HOLD ONTO THE SILLY IDEA OF OVERCOMING ADVERSITY WHEN THEY KNOW FULL WELL THAT THEY ARE SKIDDING DOWN A SLIPPERY SLOPE TOWARD AN OPEN MANHOLE. YET THEY CONTINUE TO LIVE THEIR LIVES LAUGHING AT THEIR OWN TRAGEDIES. IMMENSELY INTERESTING."
"That amuses you, does it?" I asked.
"I DON'T HAVE EMOTIONS," he said.
At that moment, my car stopped spinning and I began to slip back into consciousness.
"THE FUTURE HAS CHANGED FOR YOU AGAIN," Death said, "BUT WE WILL MEET AGAIN SOON ENOUGH."
"Are you alright?" the Parkwood EMS guy asked and when my eyes focused he was looking into the broken window of my car.
It was a couple of days later that I remembered meeting Death in that second and a half that my car spun around the intersection. My life hasn't been the same by a long shot. Sometimes good and sometimes not. But always a welcome gift of Time and Place on the right side of the grass.
Life comes fast and hard. So does Death. Be ready for anything. Fierce Qigong!