Where Death Lurked

I sat in a room where death lurked listening to the stories of life and the sadness of sickness. I did not feel evil with death's presence instead death was kind and gentle and patient.

She cried.

Terrified it was all coming to an end. She thought she was ready but as death's gentle hand rested on her shoulder she discovered she was not.

Her illness, she says, will one day claim her life. The hard road of recovery is filled with set backs and the reality death comes. So we did what we could in the time we had.

We read.

We prayed.

We read the psalmist walk in the meadows of the shepherd. We read of the storm being calmed. She focused on words that drew her in. Words that spoke to her.

She felt her soul restored for she was fearing she lost it.

She was drawn to the other side.

Listening she heard, "Peace. Be still."

Tears rolled down her cheeks. We read a few more but the words did not feel the same. Her belly had been filled.

So we stopped, opened the blinds to let the light in, prayed for peace and hugged goodbye while death remained behind.

Death, no longer evil or wicked or feared, but a friend sitting on the bed preparing a friend to crossover to the other side of the sea into a lush land of green.