A Deal with Death
“It’s nice to see you again.”
The following conversation, while fictional, is grounded in truth. In honor of Mental Health Awareness Month, I wanted to go down a slightly different road from previous pieces.
Grief, anxiety, depression, and anger become so interwoven when we lose someone we love. Trying to assess what we are feeling and why often gets pushed aside in the aftermath. We raise walls to protect ourselves, as is only human, but how much damage do we unknowingly create along the way? What if we could have a one-way communication with those feelings? What if we had a concrete dialogue with Death personified to walk us to the other side of acceptance? In this piece, A Deal with Death, we step into the shoes of someone in therapy reeling from loss…only to be faced with the Grim Reaper as their therapist. Do we beat Death, or does Death find us peace?
*This story contains discussions of death, grief, depression, and anxiety. If you or someone you know is thinking of harming themselves or others, please call 911 for emergency services for help.
This piece is made in partnership with Aura, an all-in-one mindfulness app curated by real therapists and coaches to help you achieve personalized peace of mind. I certainly have had my fair share of problems sleeping and everyday anxiety, and after looking through their massive library of music, meditations, and mental strategies, I’ve found some incredible new ways to hit the pillow at the end of the day and actually find rest. Regardless of where you are in your own mental health standing, everyone has daily stressors that make the little things in life less manageable.
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A Deal with Death
“It’s nice to see you, again,” said Death.
“Can’t say the same,” I replied with my gaze locked on the floor. A gaunt arm extended from his cloak to scribble along a notepad. The faint etches prevented the room from falling silent.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said as he dotted the last thought down. “And how are you feeling today?”
I scoffed. Another session, same questions. “You always ask that as if you don’t already know.” My frustration didn’t faze Death. The holes where eyes would sit were sunken, dark chasms. It was only the slight shifting of bony brow and jaw that conveyed any sort of emotion. With that said, Death’s skull appeared unsettlingly empathetic.
“Then tell me, how are you feeling compared to our last session?” He asked. I remained silent. Just going to sit here, do my time, and get out.
Realizing my silent abhorrence, Death tossed his notepad to the side and brought his chair closer. “Let’s make a deal, shall we? The last session I feel we came to a crossroads, and I want to get ahead of that today. I’d like you to keep your mind open for the rest of the hour. Put all your previous thoughts about me and my work aside and give us a chance. Can we try one session with that mindset?”
“And why would I do that?” I know exactly who you are.
Death smiled. “I can’t promise you’ll feel better, but I know I can help you on the right path towards that. If at the end you feel the same, I won’t make you come back. May I ask, what are your misgivings about seeing me?” He asked with a genuine curiosity. The audacity of such a question made me forget my own. Blood back to boiling, I clenched the armchair with white knuckles.
“You can’t be serious?” I asked. I tried to hold back but the gates broke wide. “You ruin lives. Not just the ones you take away, but the ones you leave behind. All you do is bring pain to everyone you touch! And you really think you can help me? You? You’re the reason I can’t sleep. I can’t feel happy when I win or sad when I fail. You ripped my feeling away. And now in some cruel twist of fate I’m expected to open up to my emotional tormenter?” I realized I had stood up at some point during my rant, and slowly lowered back into my seat. Death wasn’t taken aback and seemed to be waiting for me to finish.
After a moment of rest, he said, “Well, the fates are cruel, I’ll give you that. Those ladies are too judgmental for my taste, and kind of cliquey if I’m being completely transparent.” A jaunty grin formed across Death’s face. “But I’m not them. And I think that’s important for us to discuss.”
How dare he. I stared straight into those chasms and finished, “You took my mother away, and at the same time you made me unable to grieve. You really want to tell me you aren’t the cruel one?” The room fell quiet once again. Death’s face drooped, and he fiddled with the edge of his cloak. I wasn’t sure if he was going to yell or storm out the office, nevertheless my defenses remained on high alert. He took a deep breath, then he placed his hand atop my own.
“I understand why you might feel that way,” he began. “Everyone to an extent does, and that’s ok. That’s why I’m here.” The rage inside me swelled, yet as it surfaced, it crashed into tears. Stop it. Don’t cry in front of him. He went on, “But I did not take her away from you. She came to me on her own, and you need to know she is ok.”
The tears flowed faster, and I couldn’t find the shut off. “She wasn’t ready.” I sputtered out. “It wasn’t her time.”
“She was,” he squeezed my hand tight. “She was ready. You may not have been, no one losing their mother ever is. But I promise you she was ready.” I wanted him to feel the pain I’ve had to carry. I tried to soak my words in rage and deliver his final blow only to find my face collapsing into my hands with uncontrollable cries.
“Pl—Please,” each word a trial to pronounce. “Please give her back.” The world folded in on itself, just as it did the day she died. I clenched my eyes and tried to steady my breath, but the lightning storm returned. A sharp strike hit between each rushed inhale, and the corners of my vision darkened.
“I wish that I could, believe me,” I thought I heard Death say. It was hard to tell over the booming thunder. “But she’s not mine to give.”
“Wh—What are you t—talking about?” The storm ripped air from my lungs, and the shadow draped the world. Was this his trick? To lure people in and take them for himself? I felt his hand grab hold of my back and suspected I had mere moments before I met my mother’s fate.
“Shh…breathe. Breathe,” a voice said through the darkness, sweet and secure.
I knew it from somewhere, from a warm, distant memory. I had woken from a nightmare yet unable to escape the panic. That voice wrapped itself around me until the fear faded away. My mother, the angel she was, always had a gift for getting me back to sleep.
“Breathe…breathe,” the voice said again. I focused on the voice and tried one more time. Sure enough, air found its way in.
Mom? With each breath, the shadow faded, and soon the world returned into focus. To my surprise, I found myself back in Death’s office with his hand gently pressed on my shoulder.
“Keep breathing. In…out…” He repeated. I found my body agreeing, but my mind could not wrap around it all. Where did my mother go? Did he do something with her? A part of me knew, somehow, that he didn’t.
“I—I don’t understand.” I stammered. “I thought I heard—”
“Your mother?” My eyes grew wide. He heard her too? As if reading my thoughts, Death nodded. “I reached out to her when your panic attack grew, and she spoke. Well, I spoke, but she said the words. Does that make sense?”
As if anything would ever make sense again. I shook my head and exhaled, relieved to be back in control of my lungs.
“She’s not really gone,” Death continued. “No one ever truly is. I know you blame me, and I understand why. However, people only come to me when they are ready for what lies after.”
I miss you, Mom. Every day. I registered his words, somehow. Just the passing revival of her voice seemed to stomp out my resentment. Wiping my eyes dry, I asked, “And what’s after all this, then?”
Death smiled and spoke softly, “Something you won’t have to worry about for a long time. My job is to walk them through the transition,” he paused and waited for me to meet his eyeline. “And bring peace to those they loved.”
I wasn’t sure if the floodgates would ever close again. I cried harder than ever in my life, soaking my hands and shirt in the process.
“I’m proud of you,” Death said.
“Why?” I said through breaks in sobs.
“You’re crying.”
My brow tightened, and I let out a disapproving exhale. “Wow, nothing gets by you, does it? Just when I thought we might be getting al—” His words finally hit. My pain vanished and took the tears with it. “I—I haven’t cried since she died.”
Death grinned and nodded. “It’s ok to be strong, to protect yourself when all seems unfamiliar. Just as it’s ok to strip away that armor and let the pain take hold. Your hurt is a sign of how much you loved her, and how much she loved you. It’s a balancing act to heal. Sometimes, when we let the scale slide too far for too long, our mind throws up walls to protect us. Though, they tend to make things worse.
“Your panic attacks and anhedonia—your trouble enjoying life as you should, they come from you continually keeping the scale tipped towards your armor. Grief, anxiety, depression, panic… loss pulls these to the surface and then presses them so tightly together we can’t always pick out which we’re feeling. It’s ok to let yourself feel and mourn as much as you need. I want this for you. But remind yourself you don’t have to do it alone.”
“She’s gone.”
“And yet, she spoke to you just now.” It wasn’t the explanation I wanted, yet it was oddly comforting. Death went on, “You are loved, and not just by her. Help will always be there when you need it. You only need to allow yourself to accept it.”
Death’s words lingered in the air. An hour ago, I would have recoiled into my shell or sped out the door. Now, I just wanted him to keep speaking. I thought he was to blame for my misery, in truth my mind was working against me. He helped me hear Mom. She’s ok. I wanted to hear her again, to tell me everything would be ok. What would she say about Death sitting before me? Probably something along the line of “Don’t be thick-headed and let the man do his job. Also, it’s Mr. Death. Use your manners.” The thought of her scolding my etiquette in a time like this forced a smile.
“Can we make a deal?” Death asked.
“I thought we already did,” I said.
Death made a delightful chuckle and bobbed his head in approval. “That we did. Humor me then, once more.”
Before I could reply, I felt a sudden warmth along my back almost like a gentle rub. I turned to see nothing but the wall behind me, yet the comforting warmth grew stronger. When I turned back to Death, I could have sworn my mother flashed before my eyes. It was only a moment, like the lingering image of the end to a dream. I then focused on Death and nodded.
“Promise me you will allow others to help,” he said.
I chuckled and wiped my eyes. “Do I seem that stubborn?” Death offered a caring glance that insisted on a serious answer. “Fair enough. I can try. And in return?”
Death said, “I’ll help make sure you can always find her voice again. No matter how life moves forward, she will always be there to help you breathe.”
MENTAL HEALTH RESOURCES:
Suicide Prevention Hotline: 988. Click here for more.
Self-Harm Hotline: 1-800-DON’T-CUT
Crisis Text line: text “HOME” to 741-741
National Council for Mental Wellbeing: www.thenationalcouncil.org
National Alliance on Mental Illness Hotline: 1-800-950-NAMI
Helping out others: How to recognize the warning signs of mental health illness.
The Mental Health Free Clinic (Augusta, GA): free mental health services for those below Poverty line
Boca Recovery Center: substance use-disorder and mental health treatment program, additionally offers hotline services
Aura: all-in-one personalized mental wellness app. Click here for more.
Better Help: online private therapy. Click here for more.
Cerebral: online private therapy. Click here for more.
