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I remember the first time I saw him…

I must have been around two, maybe three years old and I was with my mother, visiting the shop her mother ran… the little type of general store you see in small towns in the Midwest. She sold practical items for practical people. She and my mom were talking about some grownup stuff and had gone into the back room leaving me in the main shop area. I was thirsty and saw an open bottle of Pepsi on the counter and had a drink.

I didn’t realize that my grandmother was using it to mix cleaning chemicals.

I vaguely remember being wheeled down the hospital corridor, the florescent lights flashing by above me. I just as vaguely remember the doctor telling my mom that if I started vomiting, I’d probably die, and her begging me not to. (probably why I have a terror about vomiting to this day)

The first clear memory I have after drinking those chemicals was waking up in my hospital bed and seeing the Old Lion lying curled up in the corner of the room, watching me with sad but comforting eyes.

I glimpsed him on occasion after that, but didn’t really see him until I was around five. I was supposed to be staying at my best friend’s house for a sleepover and we were playing in the unfinished basement. We decided we needed more space for something, so I grabbed the big brass floor lamp to move it to one side, out of the way. I was barefoot, on damp concrete… and the lamp had a faulty wire.

The moment my hand closed around the cold metal of the lamp, my entire body seized up. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t let go. I could feel the electricity flowing through me, but I don’t really remember any pain, just the terror of being that helpless.

When I fell, I took the lamp down with me and the bulb broke. I don’t know if that’s what broke the circuit or if the cord got unplugged somehow… I just remember walking back across the street to my house with my mother. The Old Lion was walking at my side as well.

I’m not going to list all the times I nearly died in childhood, most of the stories are just pathetic and not worth remembering. There is one more though.

I must have been around ten years old and my family had gone to Wisconsin to go fishing. I loved to fish when I was a boy and was sitting on the end of the pier outside of the cabin we’d rented. My Uncle Mark decided to give me a bit of a thrill by finding the biggest rock he could lift and tossing it into the water near me to make me think a giant fish had jumped… unfortunately, his aim was a bit off.

I woke up in a doctor’s office as he was stitching closed the wound in my forehead from where the rock hit. There was so much blood… head wounds tend to bleed profusely. My mom was with me again.

So was the Old Lion.

In the days that followed, he stayed with me, my constant companion. I wasn’t afraid of him. I’d known him too long, even though I didn’t truly know anything about him. He just watched me with those eyes, blazing yellow like the sun shining through a bottle of honey. I felt as though he was protecting me, keeping me safe.

Then on the night that I turned fourteen years old, a voice called my name from the darkness of my bedroom. I sat up and my feet had just touched the floor to stand when I saw him. I sat on the edge of my bed, watching as he walked slowly towards me.  

"It is finally time for you to know me," he announced in a gentle voice that filled me with a sense on completion.

"I’m not hurt," I answered, feeling stupid. "You only show up when I’m hurt."

"That’s not true," he assured me. "I have been at your side since you were born. I have watched every breath you’ve ever taken, everything you’ve ever done."

"Who are you?" I asked in confusion. "Are you God?"

"No," he replied. He slowly approached me and sat so close I could have reached out a hand and touched his nose. "I am your Death."

"I’m dead?" I asked, not understanding.

"That isn’t what I said," he explained. "I am not here to take you. You have reached the age that your body has begun to fill into adulthood. This is when everyone’s Death explains the way of things to them."

"You’re Death?" I asked, still confused.

"I am YOUR Death."

"What does that mean?"

He paused a moment. I don’t know if this conversation was going as he’d expected, or if I was being especially dim, but I had no idea what he was talking about. I was so confused that it didn’t even matter to me that a lion was talking to me.

"Whenever someone is given life, they are also given a death," he began in explanation. "I am your Death. I have always been with you and will always be with you."

"You mean you’re waiting to take me?" Suddenly the Old Lion began to seem a bit sinister.

"I am not looking forward to it," he said, and I couldn’t help but believe him. "But death is a part of every life."

"You mean everyone else has a lion following them, waiting for them to die?" I asked in surprise.

"I am a lion because I am YOUR Death," he explained with a fond grin. "Everyone else’s Deaths take on whatever form would fit them."

"Why have I never seen one?"

"Only one Death may see another, though on occasion, you may sense someone else’s."

"You’re not here to take me now?" I asked, still not quite sure.

"No. I am not here to take you now."

"When?"

He gave me an odd smile; a cat’s smile: his eyes blinking in exaggerated slowness.

"I don’t know. No Death knows the time... until it arrives."

"What will you do until my time arrives?" I asked in sudden frustration. "Sit around and remind me that I’m gonna die some day?"

"I will be at your side," he assured me, his voice becoming rich and comforting, "every moment of your life. I will walk at your side and celebrate your triumphs, or comfort you on your losses. I will be the one companion who can never leave you, never abandon you. Then, when you reach that moment that must come… today… tomorrow… a century from now… when you reach that moment, I will be with you still."

"And then what?"

I was still a child. I was full of questions. Sue me.

"No Death knows what lies beyond that moment any more than you do. But whatever it is, we shall face it together."

"I couldn’t even run away from you. Could I?"

"You couldn’t," he answered sadly. "You would take me with you wherever you go. I am YOUR Death. Your life could not exist without me."

"And when the time comes," I said numbly, "you’ll kill me."

"Something will," he corrected me. "And, in that moment, I will fulfill my reason for existing."

"Why?"

"I don’t know," he explained somewhat bluntly. "I have no choice in the matter. Your purpose is to live your life in whatever manner you choose."

"And yours is to end it!"

He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes suddenly alien, unreadable. Finally he looked back into my soul and said, "Yes. But not by choice. I have watched you your entire short life and have been impressed at how fiercely you’ve fought to stay alive in moments where I feared I would have to take you. I admire your tenacity, as well as all the other excellent qualities I’ve seen in you.  I have cried with you more often than you will ever know… cheered for you as well. I know every wish you’ve ever made while blowing out the candles on your birthday cake; or when you got the bigger piece of the wishbone on Thanksgiving. You are a part of me, just as I am a part of you. But, yes… when the time comes, I will do what I must."

"Will it hurt?"

That made him pause in thought for several seconds, before he answered. "I don’t know how it will happen. But I promise you this: Coming with me will NOT hurt. If anything, it will stop any pain, any sorrow, any anger, or regret."

We both sat in silence for a time after that, just considering each other as well as a fourteen year old boy and a lion are able. Finally, he asked me, "Do you understand now?"