Death came in the night, but stood by the door.

He watched her with heavy lidded eyes. I am sure there was a bit of callousness in the stare, but I can only imagine. She didn’t see him, while her gaze remained fixed at a point mid air. A silvery sheath had spread across her eyes over the past few months. Somewhere beneath the sheets, amidst all the layers, her tiny body was disintegrating and crumbling; all in preparation of the journey ahead with the intimidating stranger at the door.

In the early hours of the morning, he walked towards her and sat at her feet. He tapped on them, on her bony ankles, like a harried mother would wake a child. She didn’t respond. He then started to yank at her arms, slowly at first and then with an increasing sense of impatience. She began to gasp, while her children gathered around her. They cried helpless tears, while their mother who was a part of their being, start to flit away.

He took her by the elbow and they walked away. She turned around to look at her people. She saw her wizened self amidst the faces of her children, all distorted with grief.

After having walked a distance with him, she realized that she was young again. Her hair was soft and brown, and her arms felt strong and taut. She also realized, that above all else, she wasn’t scared anymore. The worst was over.