Death Notes?

Death Notes?

Do you hear him?
I called his name
Not in fear, rather
Like a friend, as a lover would
He stood
Just beyond my sight
In the shadows
Smiled reassuringly
But he never came

I waited
I wasn’t upset, but
It was confusing
He was there
He knew I was waiting
And he’s aware
Patience is not one of my virtues
But decidedly uncommunicative,
He only left me reason to
It wasn’t yet time
To accept the Reaper’s reprieve

I’d gotten so distracted
By the thought of dying
I’d forgotten all the living
I had to pull through
Enigmas and conflict and
Puzzles and
rhythms, hidden

He would come
He was there
He would come, as promised
Just after I’d done everything
I had to do


Is anyone ever really ready for Death?

What about the people who wait for him?

Do they fare better?

You know how there’s this standard sort of scene, in tv shows and movies, where the protagonist- and otherwise happy go lucky sort of girl or boy, sitting day dreaming in class- gets pulled out by the Principle or the police to inform them that there father was killed in an accident. Or found dead. Or, I don’t know, killed himself. Jumped off a bridge or lay on the tracks, something of that sort. That kid.

I always wanted to be that kid.

And my day dreams would often extend into how people would find my reaction bizarre, because I wasn’t going to crumple onto the floor, my world ripped apart by tragedy. Heck no. I’d probably give two warrior whoops and strip naked and do the conga in the school hall. Okay, maybe not strip naked, but I’d definitely do the conga. Nothing’s as celebratory as the boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-POP!

But obviously, that’s unreal. It’s the kind of daydream that’s on par with winning the Lotto or stumbling across a hidden treasure while drunkenly crab walking on the beach. Not at all plausible. So I switched to dreaming about me dying instead. Not by hand, mind you. I was too young to even understand the concept of suicide. It was just a scary thing that condemned you to the deepest pits of Hell instantly. Ohhh no, no, no. Even at eleven I was a smartypants. Something convenient and relatively painless, like a car hitting me or an earthquake or a heart attack while I slept- something that would do the job, end my misery, and Hello! Pearly gates! There was always the possibility that one day dad would just kill us all, but I didn’t want to give him that satisfaction.

All that childish (and adolescent, and early twenties) day dreaming aside, nothing prepared me for my sister suddenly coming out of her reverie while watching tv earlier today, and going, “I always wanted to be that girl. The one whose father dies.” And she proceeded to describe how she thought people would think she’s lost it, because of the trauma, because she’d definitely start laughing. And, well. Pretty much the same things I grew up wishing for.

It’s simultaneously horribly painful to hear your sister talk about her death so nonchalantly, and kind of darkly funny too. I mean, it’s almost the exact same words I used, that I used to think. Death just seems like the easiest way out.
To what end, neither of us know. No one does. But a way out.

It’s just that it took me a while to realize that.. Dying is inevitable. Living is painful and dying is inevitable. We might as well make the most of what we’ve been given. It’s not like I’ve learnt all the lessons… but definitely some. Love. Patience. Short but important (unimaginably important) bursts of feeling complete. Hope. Fulfillment. Pain. More patience. And more Love. I hope she learns more of them than I do. And I kinda hope I’m around to see her after she’s learned them.

Because, you know. I’m not waiting for Death, but he just might decide to drop by.

Love and light to you all

Cookie ❤


12 thoughts on “Death Notes?

  1. ohellino says:

    Well written. Gave me lots to think about. 10 likes!


  2. Virginia says:

    I am glad I took the time to read this. You are so right. This is a great reminder to me. All we ever have is today..or the moment we are in. The next is uncertain. Even in our crap, we can “live”. I have been struggling a bit the last couple of days. I am just so exhausted in every way. Death seems to be such a wonderful thing to me…a rest from it all. Now, I am not suicidal or anything, just tired. I have MUCH good in my life…but sometimes it is easy to take it for granted, I guess, or just well…need a break. I know this moment won’t last. The “sun will shine” again. Whatever. And those “Short but important (unimaginably important) bursts of feeling complete” will come. And those are the moments that make all the struggles worth it, right????

    Ahhhhhhhh, Ms. Cookie! Please feel my mind hugs to you. Please also know that I am cheering you on…still..always. You, are one sweet and talented lady. You have so much to offer this world…to your sister, to us readers, to all you interact with.

    Light and Love to YOU, Cookie dear 🙂


    • They do compensate splendidly, don’t they? I guess contentment is keeping an eye fixed on the happy moments of the past even while you’re dredging through the present. Not both though, then we won’t know where we’re going, lol. :p

      And aww.. Squish hugs!!!!!


  3. Sweetie…I hardly know how to write about this, because I know too much about this.

    For me, it is not that I want to die necessarily…it is more that I should have never been here. I struggle sooo hard with the absolute total conviction that the world would be a better place if I had not even been.

    Because to kill myself, well that would excite a raft of kneejerk sentimentality and all the stuff that people say that is is better to live, etc…which it may well be except that no one ever says why that is…

    But my family, all who are now mourning the loss of a father in their minds, my beautiful beloved who thought she was marrying a man because she married a male body filled with me…it seems so undeniable that they would be better off it I just had never been…and then they would have had a real dad, right? Even tho I never beat them, even tho I kissed them everyday…even tho sometimes in the middle of the night I got up to die and went and breathed in the smell of their hair instead and gorged myself on tears instead of death and escape, even tho I gave them heart heart heart heart…

    …they at least would have someone instead of as the Beatles song sings of “Nowhere Man”.

    Then again, things like Grace Notes wouldn’t exist if I didn’t…my poems, my thoughts…comments to people, the weird shit I do, like walk up to total strangers when I see them crying behind their faces and ask them if I can help bear their burdens, and weep with those who weep and laugh with those who laff…

    what is better?

    I really, really don’t know.

    But…I have truly experienced True God. Call God what you want, it doesn’t change who They are…and They have made it abundantly clear that I have this Quixotic Quest, to be crushed and poured out, to be sweet like a rose is when trod, and to say always always the truth that They are good and only good…

    …so I do another day…and another…and another…and another…

    and oh dear, I would feel bad about putting this here, except your blog is a really safe place to write dark maudlin thoughts lol


  4. daslater2013 says:

    Deep, disturbing yet touchingly moving conceptualism 🙂 You have a strangely intriguing process of learning sweet Cookie ❤ Your writing is addictive reading none the less, even more so for your candidness xdx


  5. PapaBear says:

    Death is a friend that I walk with every day, Cookie. He has held my hand 3 times now, but never invited me to come with him. Everyone seems to fear this inevitability but don’t realize that it’s only a transition to the existence that we move to, another life, in another world. Death comes to people often, but will only invite you to come with him when he is ready for you….. HUGS !!!

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Madsies says:

    Food for thought. Great, Monstah. It’s time for hugs! 😀


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