In The Shadow of Death

I was freed of the dead things

I never thought I would look death in the eyes and say the words, “I love you.” Whenever I thought of death, I thought of shock, pain, darkness, and then boom — life was over just like that. Whenever I thought of death, I thought of sad, gloomy days that dragged me to the floor and eerie dark nights of the soul. I thought death was a bloody thief! It took my father and didn’t even let me say goodbye. It also took away what I thought was love. I hated death. The entire world hates its name. It was robbing people, and it didn’t leave me out. Death had its eyes on me and it was coming for me.

Death was something I screamed and cursed at until that chilly winter night in 2018. Before that night, I felt like death all the time. It was as if the cords of death had entangled me. I felt stuck. It was the roughest and toughest year of my life. That year felt like the ground itself was being removed from under me. It felt like mother earth no longer wanted to hold me. The cords of the grave coiled so tightly around my neck that I couldn’t breathe. Dad was gone. Love was gone. I was stuck and my heart hurt. I cried all the time. I saw nothing that suggested things would improve. I thought life was a big, bad joke! I was damaged. Many parts of me were dead. Some parts were dying. I was ready for it to be over. Death was coming and I could feel it. I could feel its sting in my bones. I imagined I’d be alone when death came and it was fine. I’d prepared myself for a quiet, lonely death surrounded by warm pillows, warm blankets, and warm tears.

I woke up very early that morning to be confronted by dark clouds and the snares of death. I wasn’t scared, actually, there was a peaceful air in the sky. Death was closer and had consumed my mind. Just like I did on my birthdays, I decided to pick out a special dress to wear. I stood inside my closet looking at my clothes, wondering which was the perfect dress for the occasion. The white flowy dress with the laces across the chest caught my eye. That was the dress my friend Martin said made me look like a fallen angel. It was the perfect dress. I got it out, run my hands on the fabric to remove some crinkles, and laid it on my bed. I had forgotten to make my bed, so I removed the dress, hung it on the wardrobe door, and made my bed. I laid the dress back on it.

It was my death day, and I wanted everything to be perfect just to mock death. I wanted things organized for the person who would find my body. The messy shoes in the corner of my room caught my attention. I went over there, sat on the floor, and arranged my shoes. “Who would get these shoes?” I thought as I held my red bottoms in my hand and looked at them for a while. I put it back down and got up to clean everything else that was a mess in my apartment. I grabbed an apple from the dining table and ate as I cleaned. I cleaned until about 2 pm. I got tired. “I need some soul music,” I said to myself. I went into the living room and removed the charger from the back of my boombox. I connected it to my phone and went on YouTube looking for my all-time favorite playlist. I played the first song on the list. It was “Little House” by Amanda Seyfried. I soaked in the words of the song and went into the fridge to find something to eat. I found some Godiva. Music and chocolate did it every time. I felt a little better.

I had a strong craving for marijuana. It had been a while since I experienced the magic of Mary Jane. I remembered I had a leftover blunt from weeks ago, so I got up from the barstool in the kitchen and looked in the Nike shoebox under the bathroom sink. It was still there. I lit it up, took a hit, and the heavens opened up and rained down on me. I was bursting with ideas, but none of it mattered. Life would soon be over, so I didn’t really entertain those ideas. I let them come and go. Like cannabis always does, I stopped what I was doing and went to do something else. I don’t remember the things I did and I don’t know where the time went. The night arrived and so did hunger. I made myself a big bowl of my favorite Ghanaian food — fufu and goat soup — and I enjoyed every bite. Mary Jane always brings the appetite. I felt good, and it felt good to feel good.

I stayed up a bit after dinner watching that episode of “The Big Bang Theory” where Sheldon passed out rock climbing. I laughed my heartache off like I did all the other times I watched it. Mary Jane was wearing off, and reality started kicking in. I got up, grabbed my boombox, and went into the bathroom to get ready for the night. I didn’t cry at all in the shower that night. I just listened to my favorite songs.

I got out of the shower and a cold wind blew over my damp skin. I had left a window open in the bedroom and I was certain death had gotten in. I picked up my white lace dress from the bed and put it on. I put some white powder on my face, just like my mother did when I was a little girl. I felt comforted. I went to the open window and looked outside. I thought of my mother. She knew nothing about what I going through. After the thought about my mother, all the tears I had suppressed that day came pouring out. If I died, how would my dead body get back to my mother in Ghana? I had no one with me to make sure of it. I was all alone. I wasn’t going to entertain those thoughts, but heavy emotions caught me by surprise and I was a mess. The tears wouldn’t stop falling off my face. I felt like I was already dead and my soul was stuck in my body. I was suffocating. I closed the window and got into my now chilly bed and laid in a fetal position the same way I came into this world. That’s the same way I’d leave. I sobbed with all my strength and the only thing I had for company was misery, who wrapped me in a cold embrace, whispering it would be there for as long as I needed. The music was still playing on the boombox from the bathroom. It was playing “Dream” by Priscilla Ahn. I guess I wasn’t really alone. I had misery and music for company, all wrapping me in a warm and fuzzy embrace. The plan was for my soul to slip out of my body in my sleep. Nice and painless, but what happened isn’t what I expected at all.

I felt sleepy as waves of death swirled about me. Torrents of destruction coursed through my veins, sending me on a high, but now that I think about it, it was Mary Jane entertaining me. I thought any second now. I closed my eyes and prepared my soul to leave my body. I fell asleep only to awaken in a different dimension in the spirit world, looking down at myself sleeping so peacefully in the fallen angel dress. I was dreaming. Actually, now that I reflect on it, I was having a trippy out-of-body experience. The shadow of death was standing over me as if it was going to operate on me. I stood at a distance and watched death destroy me; it seemed. I was tempted to scream and curse him for everything he’s robbed me of, but I couldn’t scream. My mouth just went up and down, so I gave up trying. I stood there, and I saw the terror before my eyes. Death was scanning my body with some kind of x-ray vision, pulling some dark, decayed, dead things out of me. It searched for the weeds of despair and pulled them out. It scanned for diseased parts and cut them off. I looked at my lifeless body to see if she was okay. She was sleeping peacefully, but I could feel all her pain. Death was now inside my mind and all I could feel was death, despair, grief, pain, and suffering. I felt the life leaving my father. I felt the way I felt when my ex-fiancé replaced me in just two months like I meant nothing at all after six years. I felt the death of who I used to be. Death lifted its hands and pulled someone towards it. Hanging on for dear life was my ego. Death looked at it as if to say, “What’s wrong with you?” It turned off a switch on my ego and placed it back inside. The moment he put it back, something changed. Death had transformed into a human figure and he turned towards me. He knew I was there the whole time.

Death reached out his hands and beckoned for me to come. I walked slowly towards him. I thought it was time for us to leave. Finally. But he motioned for me to get back inside my body and go home. “No,” I said. “Take me to my daddy!” I had changed into a little girl, maybe ten or eleven, and I was crying for my dad. I didn’t see him before he died. I hadn’t seen him in three years. I missed him so much. I dropped to the floor pleading with mother earth to hold me. Death followed me to the floor and held me in a cold embrace. He brought me up to sit on the bed beside my body. He took my inner child’s hand and placed it inside his.

This is what death said to me:

“I’m so sorry about your daddy. I took him away because his time was up. He lived a full and complete life. He didn’t die in shock, pain, or darkness, and he didn’t disappear into nothingness. He died peacefully in his sleep and he lives on in your heart. I broke your relationship because it was breaking you. It was the reason many parts of you were dead! I broke it to save you. It was leading you away from yourself and you deserve better. I pulled out the parts of you that were dead and diseased so you could live. I removed the dead skin to give you a much thicker one. Like the snake sheds its skin to give room for new and healthy skin, you must also experience shedding when your old skin isn’t serving you. You must shed old beliefs and let go of all the illusions of what you think you are so you can embrace who you truly are. Shedding skin is uncomfortable, but you deserve a fresh start. Don’t let the pain become your identity. Instead, let it become your teacher. Like a phoenix, rise from the ashes and let your pain make you stronger, smarter, wiser, and more powerful. I heard your call, but I didn’t come for you. I came for the parts of you that were dead. You have many more years to live.”

Death got up to help me back into my body, but I reached for his arm and looked him in the eye. “I love you,” I said as I wiped a tear off my face. “Thanks for taking the dead things away and making me whole again.”

“Don’t worry, kiddo. It’s time to get back now,” death said. He smiled at me. I smiled back. He motioned me to lie down in my body, and he passed his hands in front of my eyes. I woke up to the sound of my phone ringing so loudly through my boombox.

It was my mother calling. I was shaken and drenched in sweat and tears. My cold bed was now warm and wet. I reached for my phone from the bedside table and answered it. “Maadwoa, 3te s3n?” my mother asked me in Twi which translates to “Maadwoa, how are you?” Maadwoa is my Ghanaian name, which just means I was born on Monday. I hate being woken up by phone calls in the morning, but that morning was different. I wasn’t irritable. I wasn’t who I used to be. I was happy she called.

“I’m doing good,” I answered. For the first time in a very long time, I meant those words. I had a heart-to-heart with my mother. I set my phone back on the table after eleven minutes of talking with her. I felt so good. My spirit was renewed and my soul was restored. I was not angry and I no longer felt like death. I felt kind of free. All the dead things were gone, and I felt lighter. Literally. I was starved. Like a phoenix, I rose like death advised me to do and opened the blinds and a large ray of sun peaked in.

“Light is life,” I heard someone whisper, and I knew it was the sound of death. I smiled. I went back to the table and grabbed my phone and resumed the music that had paused. “Amen” by For King and Country was up next. It is my absolute favorite! I put the phone back down and danced about in my room, which was now beaming with light and life.

With a pep in my step, I went into the kitchen to find some food to celebrate my rebirth. I made myself a funny but yummy sunny side up, some fried potatoes, and some hot cocoa with whipped cream overflowing and I ate till I couldn’t eat anymore. I took a quick shower to wash the night and the sweat away. I got out of the shower, went into my closet, and scanned it for the perfect dress to wear to conquer the day. The little black dress caught my eye. I picked it up and put it on. It was funny how I chose a white dress to die in and a black dress to be reborn in. Black is life. I went to the corner of the room for my red bottoms. I put it on and felt unconquerable; basking in the glory of my new life, fresh light, and my all-time favorite playlist.

“I feel kinda free,” I screamed loudly into the heavens. The lyrics to “Free” by Kanye West popped into my head. It was on my all-time favorite playlist. I went for my phone and played that song. I turned the volume all the way up. “And nothing hurts anymore. I feel kinda free!!!” I sang along.

A new thought came to my mind as I sang to celebrate my rebirth and freedom. “I was wrong about death.” Without death, there’s no rebirth. Without death, there’s no rising. And without death, there’s no life.

Without death, I would still be living with the dead things. So yeah, though I walk in the shadow of death, death saved me.