Death is my friend, and my enemy. I greet him at the passage entrance, waiting for a quick-witted remark he never fails to provide. Many times he has broken through my sadness this way, but it is obvious this journey is not like the others. Death remains silent. I have been preparing for this day for a long time, but even in all my years of anticipation, I still could not fathom the toll it would take on me when the inevitable finally happened.  

      I have been walking alongside death for a decade now. Not daily, weekly, or even monthly, but frequently enough to know where the path leads. I have parted with loved ones, friends, and strangers who were always frightened of what was to come at the end of the road. At the end I always say my goodbyes to the departed I am guiding and I part ways to return to the land of the living.   

      Death has many friends. They are people he calls upon to ease the transition for those leaving the living world to the new realm, a place of eternal rest. Death looks at me with solemn eyes, knowing this will be my last journey. Every friend of Death’s time eventually becomes too heavy of a weight to carry on one’s shoulders.  

      I have walked down the cobbled stones lined with flourishing trees and dimly lit lanterns. I have walked down the path hidden in the wildflower fields where the only direction was by way of the large tree at the center. I have walked down empty city streets with billboards and screens full of memories and beloved faces. I have walked down a beach full of glittering shells as the sun blazed overhead and the waves crashed against the shore.  I have walked down the barren dirt road lit by fireflies to the music of cicadas and crickets chirping a final symphony. I have walked down an aisle of wilted flowers to the exit doors of a chapel. I have walked down a broken sidewalk with dead trees and a full moon overhead as the wind wailed. Of all the paths walked, today’s journey is the hardest. 

      Today I hold the hand of a little girl. She is the age of wonder, awe, and purity. She is the embodiment of joy and simplicity. Her hand does not tremble. Her voice does not waver. She doesn’t ask questions. She doesn’t shed tears. Her steps do not hesitate. She walks to death like she is meeting a friend. The road is lined with zoo animals, all coexisting happily. The giraffes are eating the leaves from the treetops. The lions are playing with one another in the grass. The zebras drink from the river that runs alongside the path. The birds fly over us and the girl’s head tilts back to get the full view of their colorful feathers flying ahead. Meerkats stand on the left of the path, all of them watching her stride carelessly down the way, the weight of the end nearing her nowhere in sight.  The end approaches as a bright orange sun setting on the savanna, beautiful hues of pinks and purples staining the horizon as it dips lower with each step.  

      She is the first person who seemed unafraid of death. At the beginning of our journey, I asked if she knew what was at the end.

      She smiled and said, “Peace.”