Traveling Home

Death is an inescapable entity. He comes to us all and chooses most often the brightest and most loved at one's weakest moment. Every person goes through life at a different pace: learning how to read, going to college, making a family, and settling down in their old age. Death leaves his mark everywhere for all to see, warning us of how soon our time is to pass.
"I take my place along the shore and I wait for the tide." The old man drifts silently in and out of consciousness, visiting the narrow shore between Death and Life. Although he fears Death, he knows it is his time to go. Sooner or later he must join the multitude that will venture past Life's shoreline and onto the river to take him away to the ocean. He hangs by a thread and waits for the tide to break the string and wash him away to a place of eternal life. In fear, he watches the souls that jump into the river, some in eagerness and others in obvious reluctance. The tide creeps closer and begins to lap at the soles of his shoes and he is filled with a longing to let the tide take his resting soul down the river where he will awaken in the final destination of Death's long journey.
"It seems I've passed this way before in an earlier time." In a sudden recollection of memories, the man remembers this very same shore, with it's very same allure. Many loved ones passed this way. Death's gentleness emerged at times when a child left quickly and painlessly... yet in other cases Death marched in cruelly and snatched them away, squeezing slowly while the person cried out in agony at the pain. Standing there during Death's cruel moments left a disgusted impression upon the much younger man, but now when it was his turn to take Death's hand, he understood the situation and how the drawn out pain had been unavoidable.
"To every man the mysetery sings a different song." No two lives are alike and each man is responsible for the way he accepts Life's gift. Life's unknown meaning behind the gift means a different definition to everyone. The old man chose to think of it as his chance to make a mark on Earth, to leave his name as one respected and revered. He views the world as a blank notebook, waiting for a hand to write upon it. The true writer will think of "life" as a moment to pour his whole heart into the act of voicing the endless list of words, sentences, and stories with a pencil. The true mother will think of life as her obligation to raise her children up to become successful people who will make her proud of teaching them. Life's different mysteries are innumerable and she will always invent new mysteries to add onto her name.
"He fills his page of history, dreams his dreams and is gone." As the old man withdrew into sleep, he dreamed of Life, what she had given him and what he had done with her gifts. When he was a child, Life's precious gift held no meaning to him. Now while he breathed his last breath and dreamed his last dreams, he perceived the beauty of Life and all her brilliance. She gave him the chance to live a life full of meaning and memories, gave him the chance to fulfill his hopes and learn his lessons. No better gift existed.
"I take my place along the shore and I wait for the tide.
It seems I've passed this way before in an earlier time.
To every man the mystery sings a different song.
He fills his page of history, dreams his dreams and is gone."
All through life, one views time for conquering, succeeding, taking. They hardly ever see the vital contributions Life offers in abundance. Her diminished gifts show us the mysteries of life: the joy of laughing until one's breath seems gone, the smell of daffodils, baked bread, and clean air, the challenge of superseding the impossible... they all tie in to bringing one a step closer to discovering the main mystery. Those mysteries force us to ask the questions Why are we alive and What gives us 'life?' It seems no one will ever know, and Death will take us away, never knowing the secret that eludes.
Pondering these thoughts, the old man smiled. His life held meaning. No regretful memories would link to his name. Thus, with his assurance, he died.

Note: this story was written for a class project where we based it off of the words in quotes.