Death, The Gentleman

Death is such a gentleman. I ask him, when am I due? He replies, not knowing is what makes life so precious.

He carries this big scythe so I show my concern: Aren't you tired of that? He says, he isn't tired of anything. He simply cannot afford it. There are so many yet to born and so many yet to die. His hands are always full.

I ask, Oh Death, where is your home? He says, wherever there is life.

Do you despise life? I ask. He smiles like a gentleman and says, contrary to what people may believe I do not hate life. How can I hate the very thing that is responsible for my existence?

But I hate God, I retort. The charming gentleman says, But God doesn't hate you. He cannot, because he didn't create you, rather the other way around.

Where is Hell, is my next question. Death shrugs his bony shoulders. He is a gentleman but not as bright as I thought.

Have you ever seen Heaven? His eyes become moist. Back when I was still alive, he replies.

Like a true gentleman he bows to me and ask for my permission to leave. But I hold him back.

One more question and you can leave, I tell him. How does Afterlife look like?

Exactly like what you have now, says the modest gentleman. You see, death is a gateway, a transition from one life to another.

But what about the divine justice? I ask violating my earlier promise. What about punishments for my vices and rewards for my virtues?

There is no judgement, I am afraid. There is life, there is death, and then there is life again. No courtroom, no juries or judges, no verdicts. I make no distinction, I cause no discrimination. My scythe claims victims impartially.

Then what about the consequences of my actions? Will I then be spared for my sins?

You won't. Life will judge you, says the tall, dark gentleman. I may forget, forgive, but Life is not so kind. You owe nothing to me, but you owe everything to Life, the only one you ever get.

Death and the Maiden (1908), Marianne Stokes. Source: arthistoryproject.com