The Reaper

 I grieve for life not even knowing what it is or means. My spirit is much stronger than my body. And my spirit is tired. This was the time marker, the event, the conclusion. I stood in a halloween house, in October, in the fields, under the eclipsed sky with wolves behind me. The black truck must of been the coroner, or The Reaper. 

I shakily stepped out into the cold air last night, walking into the fog and drizzle. "Don't fear the Reaper" was playing on the loud sound system outside the haunted house. Josh had confirmed for me the message I could not listen to, and still haven't. Missed calls, texts and alerts. I knew what had happened before the phone began to try to tell me. I have been dreaming about it for decades. Trying to process all of it was overwhelming. I slowly drove home, bloody makeup now a smeared landslide onto my favorite hoodie. 

My brother was a poet. Last week he had a stroke and a heart attack. He refused to go to the ER. He was trying to recite his poetry to me and he forgot the words. He had never done that. We both silently knew the end was near. But the end has always been near for us. We have had to live in this acceptance because death had been so prevalent in our "lives." Life, living, dead, dying. 

Driving under the drizzling skies into the fog, I saw the soul of my brother, laughing, in clown makeup. I was doing what we loved when he died. It was a wow, keep my eyes on the road, moment. I rolled along the dark curvy hills, window down feeling the cold wet against my face. This is what my brother loved, right now, face in the wind, riding under the sky, free in that moment. I felt so connected in that moment to him and all my family. I am the last one.

I knew my brother more than anyone on this planet. We were one, we had an understanding as I did with my other brother and mother. Our task of things were understood by us all. I won't fight or deal with any drama over this. I will do what I know needs to be done on my part and move forward. I'm not exhausting myself into illness to placate a soul here. 

It's a comedy and a tragedy. In the end death comes for us all. Don't fear the reaper. He is now less scary and perhaps drives a black truck.