The Stranger

I am no stranger to Death. In fact, the first death I’ve seen happened on our way back from the zoo. I had been asleep in the car, until I was woken up by people yelling and my brother frantically shaking me. I looked out and stared at a bright red car. It was hugging the large tree, the paramedics putting the long white blanket over the tired, bloody man on the floor, since he’ll get right back up after a quick nap. At least, that’s how my dad explained it to me. I was four then, and I didn’t really understand what I was seeing.

I didn’t think much of it anyways. But, the first death that really affected me happened only a month later. It was poor old Jerry, the ice cream van man. It had been a normal month, normal week, normal day, and I was out to get my weekly Sunday sundae. When we went to the counter, a new face came from the back of the van, one that forgot to wear a smile. He gave me my treat, but I couldn’t eat it. I refused to eat it. I didn’t want the sundae that the fake ice cream man had made, I wanted the real ice cream man, the one who couldn’t be replaced. But I had to accept it, my mother had told me. Old Jerry, wasn’t coming back. Not now, not ever.

I think back to those days, when I was small, oblivious, and care-free. I never stopped to imagine why Death started hovering around at my young age. Maybe he was a creep. Maybe he wanted to prepare me. To prepare me for today. I’ve never been to a funeral before. When I look at the caskets behind me, I don’t really know what I’m looking at. I don’t understand what’s going on, and I go back to feeling like that young child, bewildered by such a strange, senseless reality that is Death. I’ve never understood where the man in the red car, or poor old Jerry went. Am I supposed to believe that when we die, we go to that casket? Am I supposed to believe that this is where my parents ended up? Why can’t Death himself explain what He is? Why are we stripped away so easily, like fragile little children away from their parents? What am I supposed to do with this? This anger, this fear, this anxiety, this turmoil, this pain? 

That role will never be filled again, whether it’s driving the red car, being the ice cream man, or being my loving parents. Death is a reminder that we have a role, one that cannot be replaced. Whether we search for the Stranger ourselves, or when He comes to seek us, He is there to remind us, we served our purpose. Our job on this Earth, is done.

I have known Death for so long, and yet, I never seem to recognize Him. We are unaware when the Stranger is near; we are unable to understand His actions, His purpose, His lessons. Could the Stranger be sent from the One Above? Our Father in Heaven? What purpose were these three visits from Him? I am left with too many questions, too little answers, and even less time to think about it. 

I only wish that He would leave me alone, but that would be asking too much. Death is a growing pain — a bud planted in the depths of my heart, that reaches through all my memories and actions, spreading its roots deep, leeching the energy that I had and will have. If I had the strength, I would rip it out, before it blocks my most precious moments, of the people who are no longer here. But alas, I am but a small child again; Alone, defenseless, and fragile. No answers to my questions, left to face Death taking what I thought I had. 

I don’t wish to say Goodbye, my inner child tells me to be petty, to not bid them farewell, so that they have to come again. But I don’t get to decide that, I realize now, I was never able to. I will never be able to love the same again, out of fear of the Stranger paying a visit. Nobody will be able to replace the role that they had filled. If our love was a wall, and our hearts are the city, then our loved ones are the engineers who built and maintain the wall. Once the engineers are gone, the wall crumbles, and we try putting up weaker walls around the imperfections, in order to look strong. But the more walls we build, the harder it is for the city to have contact with the outside, and be able to sustain itself. Without the help of the outside, the city starts to become weaker and weaker, until a stray arrow lit on fire sets the whole city aflame, destroying everything we’ve known. Death is not the arrow, but the removal of the engineers, the taking of the wall’s support, and knowledge of how to stand up to our enemies. We fall, unless we understand how the engineers have built the wall, and teach others how to build their own wall.

My wall may begin to fall, but I must hold on, and learn how to build the wall myself, and then eventually, I will strengthen it with the help of others. Even if my city burns down, I will rebuild myself, in order to try again. If I am going to learn anything from the Stranger, it will be to prepare for when he comes around again. I will never know when He will visit, but I will know how to deal with the arrival, until it is my time to leave as well.