The Visit
The long, black sedan cruises effortlessly, and smoothly through traffic, turning heads in it's wake. Tinted windows allow looky-loos the privilege of silhouette, furthering the mystery. The driver, single-minded in his purpose is not concerned with such trivialities. When he's given a directive, he fulfills that mission with an almost inhuman precision, and professionalism. He's never late, never wrong, and never, ever questions, or doubts his orders. Today's mission is a little different than the other's, yet, it must be completed with the same unquestioned professionalism as his other missions. How many have there been? He's lost count. So many missions. So many faces, he's lost count. Seems like he's been doing this forever. He eases the sedan into the spot, and almost flows out of the vehicle. Seems like the car was built around him. Built just for him. He looks up, and spots the apartment window of his destination. No need for directions, his GPS is innate, and built-in. He smiles to himself as he proceeds to the building. The best part of his job, the most exciting part, is when his quarry has been located. He does what he does, and he's the only one who does what he does. Period. "Let's go, baby."
A knock at my door snapped me out of my daydream/meditation session that I always indulge in by my living room window, my growing Bonsai being my company, regardless of the weather. A major part of the end of the week/day off mental purge that keeps me sane after a week of absorbing others' energies. I don't often have interruptions at these moments, as my velvet rope defense is pretty much impregnable. Yet, when I have been interrupted, it'd have to be, had BETTER be important. It was in this spirit of annoyedness that I answered the door. Years of living in New York have made me wary of surprise visits from uninvited guests. Years of NOT living in New York haven't dulled those senses. Not one bit. A polite tap on my door will get the same response as the rude banging of an ICE raid, if you're not expected. My peace disturbed, whoever this is, is gonna get the full-blown Bear Stare.
Peeking through the peephole, I see a nattily-dressed cat who looks like he sees a hairdresser on a weekly basis. "Hair's too frockin' shiny." I think to myself. "Probably a weave...ya never know these days..", I chuckle to myself. Not feeling a threatening vibe from him, I open the door sternly, with an air of annoyance, which is to be expected, because dammit, I was annoyed! "Can I help you, man?" A pleasant, confident smile crossed his face, "Kirkster?" he asked. "Yeah, that's me, bro, can I help you?" He smiled again, "Why, yes! Actually, I'm here to help YOU." Damn. A Witness. I guess my hood reflexes HAVE slipped over the years. A curious puppy expression crossed my face, and before I could, even more annoyedly, probably less politely ask him what he wanted, he smoothly reached into his perfectly-tailored jacket pocket and handed me his business card.
"Hm. Someone in need of some artwork, possibly? Hopefully! He looks like he can afford my prices. Bro's tired of eating Ramen's for dinner. A bear needs steak!", I think to myself. "Please...allow me to introduce myself...I am..."
"Death?" I asked, finishing his statement. "Yes, my friend. I am Death, OR Life, depending upon your perspective. May I please come in?" Hesitatingly, yet curious, I invited him in. I actually invited Death into my home. The day just couldn't possibly get any stranger.
The long, black sedan cruises effortlessly, and smoothly through traffic, turning heads in it's wake. Tinted windows allow looky-loos the privilege of silhouette, furthering the mystery. The driver, single-minded in his purpose is not concerned with such trivialities. When he's given a directive, he fulfills that mission with an almost inhuman precision, and professionalism. He's never late, never wrong, and never, ever questions, or doubts his orders. Today's mission is a little different than the other's, yet, it must be completed with the same unquestioned professionalism as his other missions. How many have there been? He's lost count. So many missions. So many faces, he's lost count. Seems like he's been doing this forever. He eases the sedan into the spot, and almost flows out of the vehicle. Seems like the car was built around him. Built just for him. He looks up, and spots the apartment window of his destination. No need for directions, his GPS is innate, and built-in. He smiles to himself as he proceeds to the building. The best part of his job, the most exciting part, is when his quarry has been located. He does what he does, and he's the only one who does what he does. Period. "Let's go, baby."
A knock at my door snapped me out of my daydream/meditation session that I always indulge in by my living room window, my growing Bonsai being my company, regardless of the weather. A major part of the end of the week/day off mental purge that keeps me sane after a week of absorbing others' energies. I don't often have interruptions at these moments, as my velvet rope defense is pretty much impregnable. Yet, when I have been interrupted, it'd have to be, had BETTER be important. It was in this spirit of annoyedness that I answered the door. Years of living in New York have made me wary of surprise visits from uninvited guests. Years of NOT living in New York haven't dulled those senses. Not one bit. A polite tap on my door will get the same response as the rude banging of an ICE raid, if you're not expected. My peace disturbed, whoever this is, is gonna get the full-blown Bear Stare.
"Have a seat, bro. Care for some Espresso?" "Uh, Chamomile, if you please. It's a lot healthier for you, actually." I overlook how he can possibly know that I have Chamomile, and bless him with a cup. Being an observer, my curiosity often gets the best of me, and in a situation like this, I gather most wouldn't have even let this cat in, much less answered the door. Yet, despite his claim to being Death itself, I didn't feel threatened at all.
"So, Mr. uhhh…" He gently interjected, "Death, but please, you can call me 'D'. 'Death' is so... formal, wouldn't you agree?" My patience starting to wear thin, I feel myself going in, full-court press on this cat. "Okay, 'D', what brings you here, bro? Is this a pick-up?", I ask, semi-sarcastically. I'm gonna humour him for a few more minutes before I rip his story to shreds, and send his shiny-haired ass packing. Starting to smell like a greasy life insurance salesman, and with the way insurance companies are treating the people nowadays, dude's gonna feel my wrath! How did this blood, and money-sucking vampire get my address, and know my name, any ol' way? "Death, my ass, bro. I know for a fact that when Death comes a'calling, he never leaves empty-handed." "Not true", he said quietly. "Sometimes, I come as a courtesy call...other times, as a warning.". "So...which one is this?", I ask. "A little of one, a dash of the other.", he said, slyly. "You're being cryptic, my dude" I said, feeling the tendrils of my slowly growing impatience begin to overtake my curiosity. Son's taking too long to get to the point, and I was starting to truly regret inviting him in. Laughing heartily, with a boom that made Barry White sound like Pee Wee Herman, he continued. "That's pretty good! Your sense of humour is delicious! So is this tea, I must say, a wonderful cup of tea! I guess I'm being a bit coy, and I must apologize for that. I'm actually here because you've been struggling with just what it is that I do, my methodology, rhyme, and reason. I'm here, Kirkster, to hopefully clear some things up for you."
Now, I'm in full surgeon mode, because I'm slowly convinced that this slick mug IS an insurance salesman, which will rapidly put me in nightclub bouncer mode. "I appreciate it bro, but I'm good." "No, you're not." he replied. "HE'S heard you, felt you struggling, heard your spirit's cries and has tasked me. I'm here at HIS behest, so trust me my friend...I KNOW that you're not okay. " "Firstly," he continued, thoroughly dismissing my bullshit bouncer bravado, "I'm NOT a bloodthirsty, mindless monster. I go where I'm required, and as an agent of The Lord, only go where I'm assigned. What may seem random, and heartless, is actually predestined." "Predestined???", I ask/exclaim.
"Yes.", he calmly, cooly replied. "And in some instances, merciful." "Like, in the case of my QueenMother?" He nodded his head, "Yes, my friend...and countless others. Whether you're aware of it, or not, your beloved QueenMother, delightful woman she is, and truly a pleasure to meet, welcomed me.". Rage was the order of the day. Fresh out of the oven. Bro stepped over the line, and my anger-seasoned pot of grief bubbled over. "WELCOMED???", I bellowed. "What the hell are you talking about, bro??? She was talking about Thanksgiving, and looking forward to it, dammit! What am I talking to you about her for, any damned way, what the hell do YOU know, son???" Cooler than a polar bear's pillow, and after a slow sip of his tea, he calmly spoke. "Firstly my friend, please calm down, and have a seat. Trust me, disrespect is not intended, my way, nor is it a part of my credo, or directive. Never is. Please, my friend...have a seat." His voice was the ice water to douse the flames of my pain, and rage, and I did indeed have a seat. "I'm sorry, man...it's just that..." I trailed off, feeling grief starting to rise like reflux. He continued, "It still hurts, and the wound is still raw, my friend. Trust me...We know. Your QueenMother, I like that term by the way, was ready. She was ready to ascend. She was so, so tired. Tired of the pain, the weakness, the medication, the treatments...She hated not being able to do for herself, do you recall her telling you these things?"
"Yeah...I do...I do recall that." Memories of hospital bedside conversations came flooding back, and I could hear the pain in her voice, once again. "We know that you do, son. All she wanted, was to be able to go home, sleep in her own bed, and be with her family, but she felt her body failing her more, and more everyday. After the last scare, despite her putting on a brave face, she was ready to come home, and be with Father.". My emotions welled up, as I started to recall that final scare where I felt so damned helpless, and useless to someone whom, for my entire life, was a miracle worker, and had been such a wealth of kindness, caring, and wisdom. All I could do, was pray. And be there.
"Maybe so, but but I wasn't ready for her to go! I needed her! There was still so much that I needed to learn from her, so many things that I wanted ask her, so many things that I wanted to share with her, man! Come on, yo, it's just not fair, IT'S JUST NOT FAIR!!!" My grief, and pain subsiding, Death spoke softly. "What's more fair, my friend? Your beloved QueenMother living in constant pain, and discomfort, feeling herself getting worse, and worse, just so you can have her around? Or...her being pain-free, renewed, reborn, and rejuvenated, being able to watch over you and the family without Earthly constraints, and restraints? Be truthful, because you currently aren't, my friend. Are you being fair to her?". That question hit me like a stealth taser jolt, but it snapped me out of my grief, and brought me to a new realization. "No. No, I guess not. I didn't think of it that way, but I miss her so much, man. I'm so lonely for her, bro, you know what I mean?" He smiled warmly, and replied, "Of course. Totally understood. Yet, if you listen with your heart, mind, and spirit, you'll feel her still with you! Love is the bridge! Love is the beacon, and love fills the void! You've got to ALLOW it, though. She's waiting to talk to you, to love on you, and to hear you! She's only left you in the physical sense, but in spirit and soul, she's STILL WITH YOU, my friend. Give love a chance. It has more power than you know, as it all comes directly from The Father! Give it a try, son." Head bowed, I nod in agreeance. "Your QueenMother was granted Mercy, my friend.", he continued. "No longer suffering, no longer in pain, no longer concerned with bills, debts, or matters not pertaining to her loved ones. She wants you to take better care of yourself, and she wants you to live your life. She WANTS this for you, child! Search your heart, and soul...in time, you'll know this to be true. While the time to grieve is necessary, it has a shelf life, and an expiration date, my friend. Don't forget that you also need, and have time to live. As a Child of the Most High, you've been blessed with free will, so the choice is your's. You STILL have a wonderful life ahead of you, should you choose it.". One last sip of tea, Death looks at his watch (a Gucci...because it's about that time...), and smiles warmly. "I do hope that I've been able to clear some things up for you. This was a one-time visit, and while I have thoroughly enjoyed myself, I must run. Things to do, places to go, people to see, and all that sort of rot. It's been a pleasure meeting you, son. Do take care of yourself, eat better, GET SOME SLEEP, and stop stressing." I start chuckling, "Jeez, bro, you sound like Moms!" Death laughed back, "Who do you think told me to tell you that?". He smiled, winked, and proceeded towards the door. Strangely, I kinda wished that he were able to stick around, and kick it a little bit, as through our conversation, I had a far better understanding and perception than I had before. Nevertheless, I know that he has a tight schedule. As I let him out, and shook his hand, Death smiled warmly and said, "When next I come, I trust that you'll know that it'll be just as today...as a friend." I returned the smile, "Yes, my dude. I will...Thank you humbly.". Death smiled, walked to the elevator, and before boarding, turned, and said with a smile, "Remember, more Chamomile, less Espresso!"
Indeed, indeed...😉
©2019 KirqArts, LLC,/KSquared Books/SugahSoul, LLC
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