A figure walked into my room late one night. It was Death. Without any words, I knew it was my time. Tears rolled down my face, but I didn't make a sound. I didn't want the people outside to see what was about to happen. Death came to my bedside, laid down its scythe, and pulled down its hood. To my surprise, Death looked like an old friend and a smile spread across my face. We stayed there for a minute or two without words lingering in the air. I knew this time wasn't given to me to prepare or come to terms with what came next, but so I could enjoy my last moments and be at peace with myself. Death pulled up its hood, grabbed its scythe with one hand, and extended the other to me. In that moment, I grew scared of what would happen to the people I left behind, but one look at Death and I was calm once more. I looked around the room at the white walls and grabbed the hand of Death. As we left, I heard a voice I no longer recognize speaking words I no longer understood. What is a code blue?
Death isn't always scary.