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 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. 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. Before that night, I felt like death all the time. 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. 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. 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 said made me look like an angel. It was the perfect dress to die in. I got it out, ran 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.
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 very expensive 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.
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 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. When it was over, 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 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 body, 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 was 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 body get back to my mother? I had no one to make sure of it. I was all alone. I wasn’t going to entertain those thoughts, but heavy emotions caught me by surprise. 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, got into my now chilly bed, and lay 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 wasn’t what I expected at all…
Want to know what happened next?
It is chilling alright.
This is an excerpt from my upcoming book “Who Am I? The Journey From Unworthy to Called”
Advanced copies of the book are going out as we speak. Join the list to receive a PDF of the book immediately. This story is from the Chapter 6: The Shadow of Death.
Thanks for reading.
With Love,
Kimberly Fosu
Thank God you didn't die, I got hooked, hopefully not by death! A powerful story of life fighting death, you sound like me in my saga, Dante from the Divine Comedy.
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https://liborsoural.substack.com/p/make-the-bed
https://liborsoural.substack.com/p/ogs-original-gravewarm-graveworms
https://liborsoural.substack.com/p/cleopatra