The Day Mark Met Death

Mark knew he was dying weeks before the doctor told him, for Mark had seen Death.

The first time Mark saw death was deep in the night. He had woken and rushed to the toilet to vomit, and found himself unable to fall back to sleep through the pain. This was normal for Mark, given the advanced state of his illness, so he already had a routine for such events. He brewed himself some Tea, Chamomile and Lavender, which was sometimes the only thing he could keep down, and sat down in front of his large bay windows to gaze upon the tree line of the forest at the edge of his property.

Mark loved the woods. When he was healthy, he spent a lot of time in those woods. There was a small lake only a twenty-minute walk through the woods he used to fish. When his boys were younger, he used to take them back to the lake. His oldest son once caught a seven-pounder in that pond. The boys had even built a crude treehouse they used to play at. Mark hoped he could find the energy to visit the lake again.

Mark started to relax, thinking optimistically about how he could fix things. He’d get healthy and repair the damages, maybe they could all go fishing again. Maybe.

His eyes grew heavy, and just as he was about to doze off, movement caught his eye. Mark searched for the animal that caused the distraction, expecting a deer, but what he saw was no animal.

In front the tree line stood a tall hooded figure endowed in a long black robe that flowed slightly with the wind. Mark guessed that it stood eight, maybe nine feet. It took one large step out from the tree line and stood in full display of the moon light. In one long, greyed, nearly transparent hand, the figure held a tall and menacing scythe that glinted in the waxing moon.

The figure turned its head directly toward Mark. Wonder turned to terror as Mark felt as though he had been caught spying on something he shouldn’t have, but his fear held him to the chair with invisible restraints. Though Mark could see no face through the dark void of that hood, he knew the figure was staring at him, fully aware of Mark’s presence.

Mark found the strength to shift in his chair, telling himself that this must be a dream, but then his tea spilled. He jumped from his chair at the sudden and intense burn on his thigh. The jolt shook more hot tea from the mug which further burned his hand.

After the pain relented, his eyes returned to where the figure had been standing, but he saw only trees. Mark sat down, shaking and breathing hard in his easily exhausted state. He was not sure how exactly he knew, but he did know without a single doubt that he had just seen Death in its own form, and that what he had seen was neither a dream nor an illusion. Mark understood he would die soon.

The next day is when Mark sent the text message. He had tried unsuccessfully to reconnect before, but now that he understood his imminent death, he would plead for forgiveness. Mark pleaded and begged, not for forgiveness, but for one last opportunity to see his kids.

“Please, I am dying.”

The reply was one word.

“Good.”

Mark knew that he had only himself to blame. After all, how could he expect any sort of forgiveness from anyone when he was unable to forgive himself? The illness, the pain, and death leering from his window, Mark believed to be a retribution for his sins.

Weeks later, when Dr. Z explained to Mark, with no false optimism, Mark’s new reality, he had already seen Death five more times. Death watched again from the woods, then just outside the window. The previous night, Death stood in his home, watching from just outside his bedroom door. Dr. Z said he had weeks to months to live, but Mark knew it was mere weeks, not months, for Death appeared closer each time.

Mark had already been in the hospital for three days, three days in which he regularly saw Death in the shadows of his room.

“Please, Ann, please allow me to apologize to my kids before I die,” he had messaged.

He received no reply. Instead, he wrote a letter to be delivered alongside the will, leaving everything to his children.

When his time came, Mark lay weak, but ready to face the retribution of his actions. Unable to mend the relationships he had tarnished, he had only a nurse to accompany him. She held Mark’s left hand as finally, the hooded figure appeared in the room more vivid than ever before. Mark squeezed the nurse's hand, knowing his last breath was imminent.

Death took a step closer, followed by another, but with each step, something about Death changed. The cloak faded to a soft brown, and the scythe shifted to a shepherd's staff. Death pulled back the hood with one last step, as her true form was revealed. Long brown hair fell around her shoulders as her brilliant eyes projected light upon him. Mark was struck by her impossible beauty, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Although her face appeared young, her kind smiling face displayed wisdom beyond what could be found on Earth.

In her presence, Mark no longer felt fear. A warm, blissful peace washed over him as Death, in her beauty and glory, radiated her light down onto him. Mark now knew in his heart that those he had hurt would find it within themselves to forgive him, and he forgave those who had hurt him. Most importantly, Mark found the strength to forgive himself. Death reached out a loving hand, as if welcoming home a long-lost son she had not seen in years.

Mark took her hand.