This is a letter that I never thought I’d have to write, but I’m doing it now because you and I have been spending too much time together recently and I’m feeling uncomfortable with the level of familiarity we’ve started to share between the two of us. Usually I would quite enjoy getting to know someone on a personal level. Learning their stories. Making memories. Sharing good times and bad. But it seems that with you, the longer you stay around the more sadness and dark clouds hang over our hearts.
To get the truth out in the open I’ll just say it: we’re a happy bunch in our house and we’re ready for you to move on. I know it’s a bit uncouth to send a “you’re a bit of a drag and bringing us down so please gather your things and move on” letter via the internet – but seeing I don’t have your direct cell phone number to call you (or perhaps send a break-up-text) and you’re difficult to have face-to-face conversations with – I thought this might be the best way to let you know that you’ve overstayed your welcome at our home and in our hearts. Really, I feel terrible to have to break up with you this way, but leaving a Dear John letter under your pillow just wasn’t going to cut the proverbial mustard on this one.
And I know what you’re going to say, I know you don’t mean to always be the bearer of bad news and the giver of devastating tidings, but that’s what you are and I think we need to make a clean break here. Just walk away from each other for a while and give each other space. It’s for the best. I also understand that death is a part of life and since you’re death personified, there’s nothing you can do to change who you are. All I’m asking is that you shape up and ship out of our lives for a while.
Going through the kind of year like we have in 2011, and losing loved ones back to back to back means you and I have gotten close. We’re homies. BFF’s. Besties. Mates. In fact, I don’t even have to see your black cape, hollowed out face and empty eyes or even catch a glint of sunlight reflecting off your polished scythe to know you’re in the room. I sense you when you’re around. I feel you under my skin. I hear you echoing in the back of my mind and in that little part of my gut that says “Awe, hell…not again!” Yep, we’re too close for comfort.
- It’s time you and I parted ways, buddy.
I’m sick to death of your death. And I know my words may seem harsh but one thing you have to understand about us people in the land of the living is that we want nothing more than to wake up and smile, safe in knowing that the people we love are happy, healthy and breathing. More than that, too. We’re a bit selfish – we’d like to avoid you as often as possible. We LOVE being alive. Life and the energy around us in the world is the reason people have always searched for the ever elusive Fountain of Youth. It’s the reason we run like mice on treadmills in air-conditioned gyms to stay healthy. It’s why health food shops and stores that sell magic cures do so well (Because, these shops really aren’t magic and don’t cure anything save quieting that nagging voice in your head which says “Perhaps this will make me live longer, better?”)
I guess what I’m trying to say is that we love life so much that when we see you around the corner or when you show up unannounced we’re reminded again that we all will eventually have to jump off of this Ferris Wheel we call life. And man, we don’t want to! We’d stay at the circus and ride forever if we could. There’s just too much wonder to behold. There are too many bad jokes yet to be told. There are too many babies yet to be born. There’s too much hope and wonder in my own heart left – and every time we’re together, you and I, I lose a bit of that and have to rebuild my heart again to set it on “happy” as default.
So yeah, that’s basically what I wanted to say to you. As you can see, it’s you – not me this time making this relationship a bit sour. Please don’t take it too personally, I know being the Angel of Dark Light is a heavy burden on you. I’m glad I get to write for a living and don’t have to constantly be the bearer of bad news. That said, I’d appreciate it if you’d shove off now. At least for the rest of this year. Our souls need time to mend.
I hope you understand.