Death Is Not My Enemy — The Blessed

By Matthew Schmidt

They say that in their final moments, people relive their lives, revisiting the highs and lows as the  brain searches for forgotten knowledge to help it process the unknown feeling of dying. 

The woman’s every breath was conscious, delaying but not preventing the inevitable. She did not  resist her imminent fate, but was keen to revisit every fond memory that flashed through her mind before  letting death take her. As they flooded back, she smiled. 

She had been raised by a loving family just outside the capital, close enough to be involved but  far enough outside that she could enjoy the woods and the plains. She grew up chasing animals and  climbing trees, and helping her mother with outdoor chores. 

As she grew into adulthood, her understanding of beauty developed beyond that of nature and  into an appreciation for fellow humans. She left her parents' home for a husband and began serving the  city’s unfortunates. Not much later, her charities expanded to include care for her own children. 

They were with her now as she faded into the next world. 

Her struggling body managed to produce a genuine chuckle as she remembered motherhood. Her  children, like most, were unpredictable creatures. They were full of energy and mischief, but also joy and  wonder. Her love for her children did not end as they each grew up and found husbands and wives of their  own, and her mother's soul never wavered. When her children’s families were not visiting, she continued  her care for those in need, sympathizing with the stories of children who had not been blessed as she had,  and helping them as she could. She wanted to give back, like her loving parents had provided for her. 

Her work continued until her body shut down. Even as she lay facing her own death, she was  disappointed that she could not be serving others instead. 

Even now, as her condition had worsened, her body barely able to sustain life, she did not fear  death. She could feel her children's hands in hers, and though she could not bring herself to open her eyes,  she managed a small squeeze of reassurance. She was confident her children would live life as she had,  full of purpose and joy. They would not dwell on the loss for too long. 

A voice, silent but undoubtedly present, called out to her. 

“It is time.” 

She did not cower or hesitate. With one last reassuring squeeze, she relaxed her forced breaths  and let the life move from her mortal body into eternity, a smile resting upon her face.

By Matthew Schmidt