My brush with death, what death looks like, and why I don't think we should call him the grim reaper.

I recently had a brush with death. I don't know why they call it a brush with death, I don't think I brushed by him like you brush by others in a crowded store aisle. It felt more like I was a fish who happened to slide off death's line while he trying to reel me in.

I didn't exactly see the face of death, I mean, I was unconscious through most of it, except for a few times I surfaced and yes, it was like swimming up from a dark depth, just like they say on tv. Three times I surfaced long enough to think things like- what am I doing on the floor? What is that buzzing in my head? This must be a nightmare, but I don't remember going to bed. This can't be good. Oh no, what am I doing on the floor again? What is that buzzing in my head? I better call an ambulance, hope I can remember the number for 911. What is that buzzing noise? Damn, it happened again. I better call an ambulance. Oh, I'm in an ambulance, good idea.
So I didn't actually see the face of death but I'm pretty sure I felt his presence while I was laying on the floor. He was tip toeing around trying not to wake me.

At the hospital they figured I was a rather young ( and charming) cardiac case and they did all kinda scans and tests and what not and found nothing. So then they figured I was a head case and they did all kinda tests and scans and what not and found nothing. I had to wonder about their accuracy when they told me my brain was perfectly normal.

I let them them fish around for an answer for about a day and a half. I had to draw the line a couple of times. "No, you can't inject my blood stream with dye and send me through a tube with super magnets that make all the hydrogen atoms in my body spin on their axis. What? You want a better view of blood flow to my brain? Well, sweetie, you seem like a nice young doctor, why don't you just run down to the library and look up what all they did do to see brains better before they invented that MRI." ( answer: ultrasound of the carotid artries, non invasive, simple, and quite revealing). I figured they did the best they could and I checked myself outta there. I'm feeling fine now, I still don't have any answers, and I have to admit it got me thinking about death.

What happens when we die? Do we go somewhere? If we do, can we choose where we go? I'm just asking because I figure if we get to choose I want to go to my photo albums. I mean, think of it, that is where you have all your loved ones, your happy times, your wonderful vacations, every person and event you enjoyed enough to want to remember.

Do we just become nothingness? Return to the void? Sit at the right hand of God? Become one with all things? ( I thought we already were one with all things...) or is it just a blank?

Then I started thinking about the grim reaper. That's a name for death, right? "Death comes to get you". Well, if he's gonna escort me to my photo albums I don't think it's gonna be all that grim. Yes, I know it's really sad for those we leave behind, I know this because I've been left a few times, but grim? I've never seen what I would call a grim face at a wake. ( and why do they call it a wake? That's a whole 'nother article)I've seen sad, and tired, and distraught, and calm and pained and radiant and even cheerful but not grim. So I'm thinking it's a misnomer and theres gotta be a better name for the grim reaper.

Then I saw death. It came to me in a flash, a vision really. And to me, death looked just like a rodeo trick rider.

I swear I saw death ride up from behind me on a huge brown horse. Hooves thundering and kicking up clods of dirt, mane flapping, nostrils flaring, death's horse came at me like the devil himself was chasing it down. Death rode like a expert. He was dressed in faded jeans and leather chaps and worn, dusty cowboy boots with silver spurs shining. Death had on a denim shirt and a buckskin vest, a bandanna at his neck and big leather gloves reaching almost to his elbows, with fringe swaying up the sides. Death had long hair tied in a pony tail and a real fine brown suede cowboy hat. No, I didn't see his face.

Death and his horse came thundering up behind me and death let go the reins and slid off the saddle so he was hanging on just one side of that horse. His weight was balanced on one stirrup, his other leg gripping the horse and saddle. Both arms were out stretched and as he passed I held up a hand and he reached out and grabbed me by the hand and around the waist and flung me right up on the back of that big horse without slowing down one bit. A warm, dry wind was flowing through my hair and I put an arm around death and looked up to take in the brilliant sunset we were heading into. I was thinking this is gonna be fun.

So maybe the grim reaper should be called "Billy Bob" or "Tex", or "Alabama Slim", or "Ol dog eyed Joe" or some other fine cowboy name. "yep, siree 'Ol Bobby Sue come and took grandmammy home last night". See, doesn't that sound better? And maybe we could leave out piles of oats for death's horse like we leave straw for santa's reindeer....ok, now you think I'm crazy...but really....

Now, I'm not sure when that 'ol cowboy is gonna show up, but I'm not worried about it and I'm certainly not afraid. I've always liked cowboys, and that whole riding like the wind, get along little doggies, where the deer and the antelope play thing, and if my vision has shown me who's gonna escort me to the afterlife, I'm sure it will be a really fine ride.