Plenty of people speak of the Grim Reaper,
but I prefer to call him by his real name,
Death.
Many are lucky enough to avoid the sight of his hideous face,
and many aren’t so fortunate.
Yes, you hear of Death
but have you ever seen Death with your own eyes?
I have and now I can’t go back.
I’ve seen him slowly take shape in my dad.
Bony, pale face,
it’s true he is an image full of bones.
He’s truly a hideous sight,
a despicable being to have carved trauma into my mind.

To see a skinny, white arm,
it scares me.
I beg to never see Death again
because he drove me crazy,
with despair and loneliness clouding my mind
and a root of numbness growing deeper and deeper
I begged him to just leave already,
but he only held my hand and told me that once he left,
the pain I felt would continue to snap back like a whiplash.

But that whiplash grew old
and soon enough I felt nothing for a year.
A very long year.
Grief can become your enemy,
and whisper false words in your ear,
telling you of how Death ripped away your innocence
Of course he may have for me.
But grief is sneaky and pounces anytime.
It reminds you of the absence of the one you lost.
It makes you look to your empty side and notice how alone you really are

True, I was distraught by Death,
and his looks made me shiver in fright
with his empty eyes that were also filled with pain,
But why were they filled with pain?
Because it was his job to be feared and hated,
and he saw himself many times understanding that loss was what he was.
I was scared of skeletons and bones,
and I never wanted to see a dead body,
I never expected to though.
But I have seen bones clearly through white and dying skin,
plus eyes which had lost the light in them.
I have seen a man who wasn’t able to move anymore,
and yes I saw what I dreaded the most,
A body in my house
However it didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would.

Thank Death that I wasn’t as badly bothered as I would have been.
Because he slowly shaped into my father
and by altering his personality and appearance,
Death didn’t hurt me,
No he didn’t hurt me as badly as grief had,
because he didn’t hang around and torment me
which I am thankful for.
I’m thankful for him holding my hand and telling me the truth,
so thank Death for being the good guy.