Dear Death

Dear Death,

Hello Old Friend. I would be amiss if I called You a stranger now, as the frequency of Your visits in my life have made us more than acquaintances. It has been years since our first run in together. When I met You, I didn’t understand You were a being within Yourself. A stand-alone vital force that I didn’t recognize for what You really stood for.

Your introduction to me proceed the death of my grandpa on September 24, 1998. The mighty being that he was, the biggest form of life I knew, was ripped from me, and You were the thief that came in and stole him. ‘He lived a long life’ I was told. ‘Satisfied’, and a ‘Job well done’. But as I heard these things, none of them gave me comfort.

Silently, I began to develop distrust. You made me weary of so many things. Of bonds formed with those around me, of meaningful lasting love that would carry me through hardships, and of You. Death itself, and that You could take from me in an instant what life had freely given me to experience. I was only 13 years old, but I knew You were someone I needed to always watch out for. That You would be there even while I smiled and enjoyed life and the moments it actually made me smile. I thought we wouldn’t meet again for years to come. I thought I had given enough of my heart to You when I was a child to buy my way through years of togetherness with those that I loved. I thought my heartache was payment enough, but You had other plans.

September 6, 2020, the eldest of my grandfather’s children, his only baby girl, was taken. You started with a queen; I must tell you and her death hit me hard. My auntie was the most thoughtful, caring, most ‘even if I don’t have my life together, I’m going to look out for you, most amazing woman I have ever known. She was loud, boisterous, fun loving but would teach you a well needed lesson. She was the oldest of all boys, so she was tough. Yet, even she was no match for You and your exploits. You took her from us and never looked back.

June 27th, 2021, I learned my first lesson on how unfair You could be. My 12-year-old cousin was snatched away so fast by You, none of us seen it coming. For the first time in my life, I saw a mother so broken by her grief, she could barely speak. A father so lost without his son he could barely stand before the casket that held him and say goodbye. But, most of all, Your grim visit showed me that no matter how much I loved my children or tried to protect them from the harsh realities of the life, when it really mattered, my love couldn’t save them from You. No amount of protecting them in the world would keep them from Your grasp when You decided to whisk through my life and take them or someone else I love.

November 1st, 2022. You sought me out in the worst of ways. You knew all too well my fears and panic over the remote possibility of me losing one of my children. Knew all too well that it would destroy me. Opening the door to my daughter’s room that day, I walked into my nightmare made my reality. Death, you take many a soul, every night. Always there, to absorb the essence of those we lose. So I know You heard my whispered words in the night. I know You knew, down to the fiber of Your being, my worst fear. I know You knew my truth as deep and as well as I did. So when I realized You took my daughter, another bright light that those around me, who have nothing else to offer as comfort, will say ‘was a life gone too soon’, it solidified my ill thoughts of You. That You didn’t play fair. That You took EVERY opportunity to fight dirty. My daughter. One piece of my tattered heart that I managed to birth and have walk around personified, flesh and blood. You take her, and not me?

You felt, as you always do, that it was time. That she had done all she was here to do, and that again, it was a job well done, and she no longer had to face a world where depression and sadness touched her. The traumas she experienced and always took her mind to a place where I couldn’t reach her, would never again have her lost. Here, I have to be honest with you, Death. As much as I hate to even say your name, I am overjoyed that the ugliness of life can never reach her again. But I needed more time. 15 years will NEVER be enough. I look for her in the moon, as I know You walked her toward it. However, I will forever say You’re unfair. She was my glue. That kid that kept us all together. She was just finding her smile. Her real smile. Just finding a reason, beyond me as she told me, to live her life to the fullest. You took her little sister’s person and the one she talked to all the time. Her brother’s game partner, whom he discovered new levels on soul caliber with. Her big sister’s binge show watcher and how they could watch whole season’s together in one night. Her father’s favorite and how he doted one her, her mama number 2’s confidant and how she helped her realize it was ok to love herself. You took my partner in crime, my ‘me and you against it all’, if you will. The one who would make me smile even when the world sought out my tears. Shame on You.

In losing her, I lost myself, and I have no one else to blame but You. How dare You take my child from me? Have You not taken enough in your time with me. From Your time with everyone. From the unexpectant parents who should never have to bury their children, or the children You’ve orphaned. Has Your roster not been filled with mother’s and father’s, beloved aunts or favorite uncles. My daughter’s name was too pure to be added to Your list. And as the world moved on, going back to the daily hustle and bustle, I’m here stuck in the moment You ripped my sanity to shreds, and in the far reaches of my mind, I can hear the echoes of Your laughter, and I know You feel pleasure in the grief You leave in Your wake.

That is when all the ‘I’m here if you need me’s’ or the ‘call me anytime’s’ slow down, and the quiet nights last longer than you ever imagined they could last. I always come back to You. I think about how You have visited me so many times just to destroy my peace and disrupt my every day. The day You took my daughter; You took a piece of me too and You have left me forever grasping at the dark threads of your coattails, trying to hold on to the part of me you are trying to take. My grip constantly slipping but I can’t let go. To let go of You would mean I lose my grasp on her. The only thing that pulled me through was my support system that surrounded me and helped me recover from Your violent breeze of a visit. Your homecomings always come with tears and loss, I’m finally coming to realize.

August 11th, 2023, You paid me a visit once again. But this time, I expected You. The cancer that ravished my uncle’s body, and had him giving up on life, were signs that alerted me You weren’t far behind. Out of the 7 uncles I have, he was my favorite. When I came out, and introduced the family to my now wife, he was the one who protected me from judgement and harsh words. Any problem with me had to go through him first. And he accepted me, even before my father told me he loved me still. We could talk about anything, and we did. We talked about religion, life, politics, love, relationships and more. There was never any judgement. My whole life he loved me for me. Yet again, You decided we had enough of the mighty presence he exuded, and You snuffed his light out after a long hard-fought battle. The only solace I take in his passing is that he no longer has to go through that pain, and I suppose, deep down if I’m honest, I should thank You for that. But that’s where my thanks for You ends. Death, if you’re still with me, I promise, I’ll tell You why.

I had the honor for 39 years, to have a man in my life who stood through it all. A man who no matter what the test that was thrown at him, he found a way to make to it work. How he stood tall against adversity. Who made sure he built and had the foundation to bring to any table. A man who showed up whenever called upon. Who had so much wisdom that he imparted, whether you wanted him to or not, and always did it with love and it was exactly what you needed to hear. I had the pleasure of calling this man, my father.

When I seen him when he lost his own father, I watched him put his grief to the side to stand tall for his sister and brothers. How I seen him tuck his fear of you, Death, and stand in the place You had just removed his father from and lead his family. When I seen this, I seen a mighty, strong man, that stood against it all, including You, to make a way for his entire family, not just his children, but for his brothers, wife and anyone he came into contact with. He exuded strength in a way the made even you, Death, stand still, if only for a while. For as You always do, You creeped and snaked your way in and preyed on most anyone’s worst fear. Losing the ones they love. You always find a way to strike when our defenses are down, and our hearts are at their fullest. My father’s strength is what I always leaned on. What I drew from. When I was weak, he poured his strength into me, even if he didn’t know it. Whenever I called for him, he showed up, no questions asked. It was this example he set for me that allows me to show up for my children in the same way. When I needed my father, he was more to me than anyone could ever be. Yet the smile that man brought to my face shined too bright for You.

To know that he was one of the main reasons I survived You selfishly taking my daughter from me; to know he poured so much life into me, even though You had tried your hardest to break me. To know that I no longer have that strength to call upon has broken me in a way I never knew a person could break. I see You relish in the pain You cause as You unfairly take the children of strangers, mothers who have lost their young ones just like me. You make me know them in a way I never would understand unless I too, like them, have you as a friend. We know You’re toxic, but we’re stuck with You, attached for the rest of our lives. I never wanted to know them or You like this.

The next year, I began to unbend myself, for what had been meant to destroy me didn’t, although it definitely bent me almost to my breaking point. I became complacent and comfortable, taking for granted phone calls and visits with those I held dear, thinking I had those moments in abundance. I became forgetful of the power and pain you wielded so freely and without favorites because I hadn’t seen you for over 365 days. I relaxed enough to think, ‘Aw, I can finally breathe. It hurts, and it’s labored, and feel like needles poke me with every intake, but I can take a breath, and it feels like I never have before.’

2024 for me, was a year of realization, reckoning, redirection, and remembrance and I must admit, the embedded hate I constantly feel for You, the fear of You that I always have on the back burner of my mind, took a back seat to my goals and achievements and my planning to make things better for me and my family and do them to honor my daughter’s memory. It was a time for promises made and kept, to do better for her than I had been doing in the time since she’d been gone. For I had lost myself for a long time because of your thievery. When I lost her, I lost a large part of who I was, and I spent months on an alcoholic whirlwind. It was my father who finally broke through my hazy merry-go-round. With his love and understanding and words of wisdom and support. I’m 39, and I still have yet to make a single decision without him; his opinion has always held a heavy weight in what I decide to do, no matter how big or small the decision. To You, however, my decisions are irrelevant and null in void. For You decided, once again, that I’d had enough, and when You decide things, Your decisions come with such finality. I’m starting to understand that You see our fears and they empower You. You made me realize, in real time, one of my worst fears, and yet, not even a full three years from the date I lost my baby and you took the air form my lungs, You’re still searching the inner reaches of my being for more. Saying gleefully to Yourself, ‘who else is she scared of losing that I can take and watch how she crumbles.’

On January 27th, 2025, my pillar of strength, my Papichew, my Superman, breathed his last breath. He kissed my mother on her cheek, told her he loved her, waited until he was alone with You, and followed You onto the abyss. How can he be gone? He’s superman. I assume You were his kryptonite. He knew he was close and felt You hovering, but he knew all too well our fear of losing someone else and that fear of You hurting us again kept him quiet. You stole his voice, and he couldn’t let us know his true pain. Although I didn’t think I would see You again for years to come, when I felt You this time around, You were like a fragrance in the air that I recognized instantly. I hate that You are so familiar to me. You took my daddy. How could You? When I got the call carrying the worst news I could hear, I knew it was because of You before a word was spoken. You, Death, have left me truly on my own in this world. With this constant, pulsing, alive, reverberating fear of Your next coming, and who You will take this time. I don’t even know if I fear You anymore. More so, I now expect You to unexpectedly, without any preparation on my part, will float through my life and etch notches in me as if I were a wall measuring the continued growth of a child. You have shattered my already broken heart into a million pieces and all I can manage is this plea.

‘Death, I plead with You. Let us once again become strangers. Let us become so distant, the thought of remembrance between us is alien. I want to know You no more. Flee from me and touch not anymore of those I love. I have given enough of my heart as payment for the bonds I’ve created and You have severed. Please, sail away on the ocean of tears You have forced me to cry and never return to me.’

Signed, your well known, but very reluctant and unwilling friend –

Calise