Death is inevitable. If we would stop to think about our lives, we would see how susceptible we are to the dangers of the world, how easily Death could come knocking at our doors. Honestly, when the time comes, we shouldn’t be surprised that he got an invitation and gave his RSVP to the party long, long ago. The fact of the matter is, mankind is nothing more than mortal, prey to the supernatural, otherworldly, or whatever else is out there that we put faith in.

But as I walked down the stairs this morning and looked out the window, I saw a darkened sky hanging above the colored treetops as fog clung onto whatever it could hold onto in a passionate embrace. Everything was still and calm outside in the world, and it filled me with an eerie sense of peace. In that moment, my morbid mentality pinched me and sent a thought my way that I hadn’t expected.

When Death does come knocking on my door, when he shows up for the party and kisses me with his sweet lips, I want it to be on a peaceful October morning, just as the world is waking and I’m falling into a deep slumber. The leaves on the trees outside should be red and orange and yellow and brown, the sky should be filled with plump clouds waiting to mourn what comes next, and the fog should be passionately holding onto everything within its grasps once again, sending a message to the world that there is something out there that is more than mankind fully understands. Somewhere out there, hiding in the shadows, hiding in the fog, waiting in edges of dusk and dawn, they’re watching and waiting for us, whomever they may be.

And I’ll be waiting for them.