Patience
'The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.' (1 Corinthians 15:26, KJV)
Come with me, and I can take you on the next great adventure …
Who am I? Take a guess. If I haven't visited you, I've likely come to escort away somebody you once knew – whether family members, friends, friends of friends, rich, poor, young or old, they all come face to face with me in the end.
Often it's the youngest ones that are the heaviest, not because of the force it takes to carry them away, but because of the terrible grief they leave in their wake. That is not to say the elderly are not missed. They are, but their passing is seen as inevitable. They've had their fill; it is time to move and see whatever lies beyond the veil.
If you stay awake, you may be able to catch a glimpse of me. Be careful! I tread lightly, but when I strike, I do not return what has left the body. Oh, I've been cheated once or twice, and defeated properly exactly once. And, of course, a boy whom I'd been sure was mine to take away was saved by his mother throwing herself in the path of certain death, simply because he was her son and deserved so much to live. I managed to get both her and her husband, but the son eluded me.
For years he frustrated me. I can't deny I would have wanted the set, had it been made available to me. The mother changed all that by sacrificing her life for the sake of her son. I could not touch him. But he had been touched by me as surely as he had been marked by the one who had attempted to kill him; their fates were inextricably intertwined, but I remained the true winner. Neither can live while the other survives … well, one of them would have to kill the other in the end. It was always meant to be that way.
And yet, this boy, he wanted so much to survive, to live, that it seemed almost cruel to keep an eye on him, watch his every step lest he suddenly stumble and fall my way. And he came so close! I could not ignore his strength, his determination; too often, I stole away those close to him, yet he never gave up. Only when he summoned his mother and his father and the stubbornest of friends back to his side from my own dominion did he greet me as though greeting an old friend. But he failed again, and I was forced to be content with a shattered husk of a man – his enemy.
Harry Potter, I know you've heard of me. I'm not or young, neither sprightly nor weary. But I am here, and I am waiting. Death is but the next great adventure, so they say. Why not come with me? I'm not going anywhere, and we have all the time in the world.