The first time he came by was for my grade school art teacher
One year she was there, the next she was not. Her own cells killed themselves
I had just written her name on a pink slip of paper, put it in a cute little memory box
(I'd bought it myself, at a garage sale- an accomplishment in fifth grade)
And when I turned around, he was there.
The adults didn't notice, and the little ones ran up to him and grabbed his hands without fear, but I was paralyzed
He never looked at me with those dark, sad eyes, just yanked a puppet string behind him and a row of people fell
He looked beyond me and said with a lilt,
"Soon, we all meet again."
I turned and ran then- I did not understand- turned and ran. I buried the word "soon" deep down under and refused to look out of the corners of my eyes.
And too soon, he came again for someone much closer, my dad.
Thirteen year old me was silly enough to believe that maybe it was a bad dream, but it wasn't
His heart stopped on a train and that was that, it's a matter of fact
I ghosted around my uncle's house trying to understand that, buried in a ****** book whose plot I don't remember,
And when I looked up from the pages he was there.
I remembered the word "soon" then, and was overcome with a bitter hate, I stood and walked over in rage
"What gives you the right?" I hollered
And he startled.
I guess I wasn't supposed to see him then, but I had his attention now He turned his eyes up to mine and the hate quickly dissolved to fear
I was scrambling up a slip n' slide but still slipping, and it was dark and cold and I knew then what the word "nothing" meant.
Nothing gives him the right, It's arbitrary as a coin toss
I turned and I ran- for fear, I could understand- turned and ran. And he followed
"Stay away!" I shouted at him all those late nights
I couldn't sleep, I didn't want to slip again, I clawed my fingers into my neck, searching in desperation for the comfort of my pulse
A full year it went on like this, every night out of the shadows of my room, he would come back
Until finally, I couldn't stand it anymore.
I couldn't fight anymore, this was to be the final stand
"I don't want to be afraid of you! I'm not afraid of you!" I shouted
He smiled, all gleaming teeth, leaned forward and whispered,
"Soon, we all meet again."
And this time I did not turn from him, did not turn or run. I nodded my head because "soon" was something I had finally come to understand.
"Yes" I said,
And he startled again
"You're not supposed to understand," he said
"You probably weren't supposed to follow me," I argue back
"True," he shrugs
"But I was lonely."
He tugs on a puppet string and another row falls, and though I cannot look in his eyes, I reach out and touch his hand
"I understand"
He came by again recently, for my grandma this time.
I saw him there, gave him a small teary smile and a wave and he nodded back
I am no longer afraid
I'm the light to his dark, the bittersweet to his depressing, life to death
In the end, we'll all meet again
Soon, maybe. But not yet.