I knew a woman once; Beatrice I think her name was. Her final moments so well encapsulated my observations of humankind, I continue to think of her years later.

The question came from her soon-to-be widower, “Are you scared, dear?”

Beatrice didn’t answer, lacking strength then to speak. I could have answered for her. Cradling her in my arms, I sensed her thoughts as I carried her through the Last Door. She was afraid, though not of me. She feared what people would think of her once she was gone. She was worried that by dying, she had failed at life.

People behave as though the sole point of living is to keep on living. Nearly all stories are inspired by this notion, despite the reality that people know deep down it isn’t right. Do you think otherwise? If so, explain to me roller coasters.

More than once, I’ve manifested in the wake of a simple malfunction resulting in the derailment of those silly contraptions. Some of my passengers crossed over in terror. Others in laughter. I think the laughers got it right.

I have manifested in other ways:
Mass in the lung. Slick road. Heights. Cold water. No water. Loneliness. Want.
If l listed them all, I would not finish before it was your own time for the Last Door.

Life on earth is made to inspire awe. It is made to surprise. Just as I, though my arrival is inevitable, am always a surprise.
I suggest you laugh when you see me.