The Last

July 17th, 2023

My Last One.

I spotted him quickly once I arrived. Eyes bloodshot and drooping, back slouched over the bowl of a toilet. The feigning, drowning, once king of rock and roll, was sitting helpless before me. He leaned back slowly, eyes meeting mine. I watched as they glassed over, all fear gone from his gaze. I slowly pulled off my dark hood and sank to the floor next to him.

Most people see the best moments of their life pass in front of them before they go. The drugs were helping him as well, to slip away seamlessly. "Mama," he mumbled, "I just miss Julie." He said quietly, with a small, somber smile. Tears burned down his cheeks. He looked up at me again with tender eyes, his rock and roll façade had faded away. In this moment I could see the young boy he once was. A kid with big dreams and a heavy heart.

I opened my arms to him, he slumped over in relief and folded into me. I felt as he breathed a long sigh, releasing years of sorrow. The man was covered in layers of dirt, sweat, and stage makeup. As I brushed away his falling tears he nuzzled into my chest like a child. This was the worst part. He sensed something, smiled up at me and said, "My Julia." His smile drifted, and I watched as the last fog of life passed through his eyes. They closed softly, then the last breath escaped his lungs. Before I knew it tears began to stream down my cheeks as well.

As I held him there on the floor like a small boy, I wept as I thought of all the souls I had swept up throughout the century. How many mothers I coddled in their final moments, listened as they cried out for their children, begging not to go. The elderly who climbed willingly into my arms, tired from life's long journey. The soldiers that wished for one last goodbye. Or the ones that trekked over calmly, tired and having accepted their fate days before. The babies and toddlers I needed to take, my sorrow consuming me. I watched them for as long as I could, watched the drool pour over their chin as they slept. Or watched as they clung to their favorite stuffed animal, looking so small in their hospital beds.

I wept for them. All of them. There is no judgement in death. I look down at the man in my arms. A filthy drug addict, that cheated on girlfriends, and stopped calling his mom. A man who questioned God, and wished for a father, who missed his sister, and loved his friends. I gently laid his body down, positioning him to look as peaceful as possible. I leaned down and kissed his cheek, trying my best to remember that feeling of stubble on my lips.

I rose, the lost singer's soul still clinging to my body. Now I'd take him away, leaving him in a waiting room of sorts, never to encounter him again. I took my time, appreciating and reminiscing all the gentle souls I've carried. My time as the Grim Reaper of life is finished. I will hang up my cloak and resume my existence with the others, indebted to the gods for giving me this generous opportunity to right my wrongs.

Good bye.