Imagine death, as a corporate looking mailman.
with his black suit and red tie,
black pants, and black leather shoes.
a brown leathered sling bag all the way to his waist and a blue cap on top of his head as it overshadows parts of his face though you can still see his smile.
sure, it somewhat looks creepy, but he tries to be a cheerful person.
he leaves the house before sunrise and proceeds to work.
delivering presents in every houses, with a little note on top of every gift that says,
“you’ve made it today, here is a gift from me. sincerely, death”
inside the box, is your life, for you to use today. the dew of first breath in the morning, until you wake up.
death never fails to deliver his presents in every house,
because each house is different every day.
some look as bright as the sun,
some look as colorful as a rainbow,
others look as dark as his suit,
but most are pretty normal.
but nothing stays the same.
most days, no one is there to receive his gifts, but he never feels sad about it.
he just cheerfully knock on your door or ring the doorbell.
though, when no one answers, he carefully places the present in front of the doorstep and leaves,
for he has no time to wait — he needs to finish all his work before sunrise.
oftentimes, someone is already waiting by the doorstep to receive the parcel.
from then he tries to bargain, he is not a businessman nor business inclined, but he gives you the freedom to choose between the gift of life or the package of eternity.
if you choose life, then he will give it to you, whether you want it or needed it. a chance to see another day.
yet if you choose eternity, as he always had in reserve for you, when the right time comes, then, that is the time you need to leave your home and pass on,
but he will let you bring the boxes that you have,
the box which once contains life is now filled with memories, a gift for you to take with you.
funny, how death gives us more presents than Santa could ever give, no matter how naughty or nice you have been.
how he gives us more chances, more than God ever did.
and yet, he never asked anything in return.
death is your ordinary cheerful corporate looking mailman, that never fails to do his job. though he may be sometimes under-appreciated, he still finds his way to deliver his gifts each and every day.
Words by Clarke Stein
MY OWN PRIVATE IDAHO 