Death danced about me this summer. But, it was not my time to be his partner.
There was an old woman of 97. Her well maintained looks and her obvious pleasure in socializing with the other guests of life suggested she had lived a full life. But, when Death nodded to ask for his dance, I could see the fear sweep over her face. At first she protested. Then, realizing that the dance was inevitable, she started crying and asking to be forgiven for all the imperfections of her life. And, I then watched how Death assured her that she was perfect. With a kindness unknown to this world, Death took her sins and they were baggage for her no more.
I smiled as a warm glow swept over her face. Her fear was gone. She was at peace. Then, I watched as she gave herself over to the last dance with Death and waltzed away past my limited view.
When Death returned, he was alone. But, he had not come for me. Instead, Death would nod to those standing nearby me. I felt guilty in my relief and found it difficult to watch as Death pulled them into his dance over their protests.
I wanted to pretend there was no “last dance”. I tried to engage in the meaningless banter exchanged by those standing about me, but it could not hold my attention.
Reluctantly, I turned back to watch Death dance. It was at that point, I swear Death winked at me.