The Angel of Death

I thought I saw the angel of death standing in the corner of my bedroom right before I clicked off the light. I left the light off to see what would happen.

When you’ve lived as long as I have, few things surprise you any more. I wasn’t startled or surprised; I’ve seen him standing there before. Yes, he is dressed in black with a hood and holds a scythe. Other people’s angel of death may look differently. How would I know?

That’s the whole idea behind this next phase of life. What will it be like? Will it be good as some people have indicated, or bad, or even nothing . . . just an ending? I see nothing morbid in having these thoughts. After all our whole lives are spent in anticipation. What will school be like? we wonder as we approach our first day of school . . . what will college be like? . . . marriage? . . . parenthood? . . .

My thoughts these days are what will retirement be like and what will death be like? I remember the old joke about some guy wanting to die jumping out of a window when he’s ninety years old and his lover’s husband walks in on them in the bedroom. I wouldn’t have the energy to jump out of the window. My lover’s wife would have to kill me where I lie.


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