For
certain is death for the born
And certain is birth for the dead;
Therefore over the inevitable
Thou shouldst not
grieve.
-Bhagavad Gita
Preface
It was cold, very cold. There was snow falling, turning my dark hair white. He was walking towards me, the predator. His hard eyes were glaring at me, the last thing I would see in my lifetime. This wasn't the way I pictured I would die. But it was all for a good reason, very good. It was true love, the way you would do anything for that one special person, which makes you strong enough to do the craziest things imaginable.
My death was coming closer and I was ready for it. The predator made his last move. I closed my eyes and took my last breath. Then the crucifying pain came and I was drowning in black water. My heart slowed, my senses disappearing, and the pain fading. It was my death, unique or unusual. My life was over. To heaven, I went, hopefully, for I thought this was not a sin, but a sacrifice. I then saw the light waiting for me in the distance. It was my ending and my ending alone. A new haven, a safe place, where there was no worries, no nightmares and no more pain forever.
