Death is a Warm Blanket

“I remember you.”

I froze, the words holding me in place. “No one remembers me.” I whispered softly.

He stepped closer, the ground squelching under his feet. Cool rain misted overhead, casting a gray shadow over the old willow we stood under. “I do.” His voice sincere. His brown eyes crinkling at the edges as he smiled, kind and comforting.

Tears welled in my eyes. Could it be true? It had been so long since someone had heard me. I brushed my pale hands over my dress, fiddling with the delicate skirt. “Who are you?” I asked.

“A friend.” He answered simply, as if that explained everything.

I didn’t press, for fear of losing his company. He was listening, I could not take that for granted. “What do you remember about me?”

The unnamed man paused, his silky, dark suit stark against the greenery. He contemplated for a bit, then smiled. “I remember it all.” He began, his voice deep and velvety. “I remember when you were just a baby, small, sweet, so new to the world. Your eyes were blue and became bluer when you cried. Your mother nursing you, your father teaching you how to walk, your grandmother holding you while she baked. Your first words, your first smile. You only knew love. Life was so easy, and you had no idea.” He bent down and picked a small flower, a white daisy, and twirled it gently in his hand as he continued.

“I remember you as a child, and your laugh as you played in the sprinklers in the summer, green grass staining your knees, the sun freckling your nose. Picking wild blueberries for pies with your friends and daring each other to climb the tall oak tree in your backyard. Jumping into piles of leaves, autumn rain wetting your coat, while your parents watched from the porch, hot tea in hand. On snowy days, when you would race down the tallest hill on a sled, your cheeks red and windburned. Building snowmen and wrapping them with the scarves your grandmother would knit you. Huddled by the fireplace, enveloped in your mother’s arms, a red and white snowflake blanket draped over you both. The warmth not only on your skin, but in your heart, as she reads you your favorite bedtime story and you share freshly baked sugar cookies. Your father setting up the Christmas tree while your mother cooked your favorite meal. The laughter, the lights, the music, the smell of pine mixed with roast turkey and stuffing. You were still surrounded by love, now you had begun to understand it.”

I listened intently, remembering it alongside him. My mother and father, my dear grandmother. My friends, my neighbors, people I had cherished. The rain had stopped now, just droplets left behind on the leaves of the willow. The fog was clearing along with the clouds, bits of sunlight streaming between the branches where we stood. I felt my heart ache.

“And you understood it more the older you became. Even when your parents told you what to do, or when you fought with your friends. When you fell in love for the first time. And then the second time. When you married, and you didn’t think you could love someone more until you had your firstborn. When she began to walk and talk and grow in the same deep, flourishing love that you did. Your life was colorful, rich, full.” He smiled softly. “I remember it.”

The sun had come out completely now, the rain glittering on the grass. I watched as the man walked up to me, the daisy still in his hands.

“Even on the darkest days you felt that love. And you gave that love back. To those who knew you, you were kind, thoughtful, giving, considerate. And important. You were important to many people. They think of you, even now.” He placed the daisy on the ground, in front of me. In front of a headstone.

My headstone.

A sense of familiarity washed over me. I had forgotten it all somehow, but he hadn’t. The memories of my life tugged at my heart as they flooded back to me, the accompanying emotions slightly overwhelming. “Who are you?” I asked again, desperate.

His gaze was tender. With a solemn voice, he answered, “You know.”

I guess I did know, deep down I knew. “Have we met before?”

He shook his head. “No, but everyone meets me eventually. Only once. Most fear me, but I am not here to frighten you. I am only here to show you what is next.”

I wrapped my arms around myself, though I was not cold. My voice was thick as I began to speak. “Am I really—”

“Yes.” He said quietly, interrupting my sentence, his tone full of sorrow.

“How?”

“There are some questions not meant to be answered. It was too early, not your time. But these things happen.”

Not your time. I turned around, hiding my tears. “Did it mean anything? Did I matter?”

“You mattered, they will never forget you. You are loved, even now.”

A bittersweet feeling gnawed at me. I was loved, but I was gone. I had wandered under this willow for what felt like forever, lonely, confused. “How long have I been here?”

The man smiled sadly. “Not long, though it feels much longer to you. For that, I am sorry.”

There was a pause as I let it sink in. It was difficult to comprehend that I was here, but my body lay deep in the ground, buried in soft earth. I dreaded the next question I knew I had to ask. A soft breeze rustled the leaves of the willow, scattering droplets below. I took a deep breath. “Is it time to go?” I asked, turning back to face him.

He nodded, then reached out his hand. “When you’re ready, I will guide you.”

I stared at his outstretched hand. I didn’t know how long I had waited under this willow tree, I could never be sure how much time had passed. I ran my fingers along the gravestone; the letters etched deep into smooth marble. My name, my birth date, my expiration. A short quote at the bottom, Time passes, love remains. This was all that was left of me. But the memories of my life flooded my mind and warmth bloomed in my chest, reminding me that wasn’t true. I would not be lost to time. I was gone but not forgotten. I was loved. I mattered. I had to believe that.

I took his hand. His touch was soft, warm, and a deep sense of comfort flooded my body, as if he had instantly absorbed all my worries leftover from life. All my fears, my loneliness, my hesitations were gone. The only thing left was overwhelming love. The sun shone brightly on us now, the sky clear and blue, and I couldn’t help but feel like it was another sign. I smiled at him, no tears threatening to fall anymore. It was time to go; I knew that now.

“I’m ready.”