Death paces the perimeter of my daughter’s life. Every birthday Death has been there, standing at the edge of the party wistfully, looking at the birthday cake. Every holiday, every trip to Disneyland, every special moment, Death tagged along.
But one day, I walked up to death and said, “What if she lives?”
Death stopped pacing and turned to face me, blinking rapidly as if trying to understand the question.
“What if she lives?” I said again.
Death looked at my daughter.
My voice became louder. “We’ve all been waiting for her to die for the last 10 years. Did it ever occur to you that she might actually live?”
Death stared back at me and said absolutely nothing. Then I realized Death had nothing to say about being alive. Death couldn’t imagine anyone living. Death was prepared for the end of life, not the continuation of life.
But I could imagine my daughter’s life. I could clearly see her alive and well and happy, living many years longer than anyone expected her to.
I stepped closer to Death and pointed toward the road.”I think it’s time for you to wait out there.”
Death glanced in the direction I pointed, then looked back at me.
I took another step forward. Death took a step back.
“I said you should wait over there. I know you’re not going to leave, but you don’t have to hover so close anymore.”
Death stare deep into my eyes, blinked a few times, then shrugged. Slowly, Death turned around and walked out to the road. It didn’t matter how long Death had to wait. What is time to Death?
I turned my back on Death and walked into the house to be closer to my daughter who I as happily coloring a picture and singing a song. I sat down beside her and allowed myself to dream of her future.
It doesn’t matter how long her future is. It only matters that she live.