February 14, 2012
Death was no longer a subtle reality with a gun firmly pressed against my temple. I sat on the cold, hard ground and waited for my life to end. Was the end of life really this simple? Time slowed down to a crawl but my mind kept racing. Was I going to die? Would I feel anything? I had just celebrated my nineteenth birthday two nights ago; dying this young did not feel fair. I tried to quiet my mind.
It was dark outside, a-five-in-the-morning-on-Sunday darkness that crept in unconcerned about the events unfolding before my eyes. The city was deathly quiet, no cars, no people walking or dogs barking. It was me and this stranger with a gun pointed at my skull. Richmond had never felt so desolate, so estranged. How did I manage to get myself into this situation?
I had purchased a freshly cooked sausage, egg and cheese biscuit and one Boston cream filled donut from the local convenience store close to the university’s dormitories. Walking back home, my footsteps sounded like miniature cannons exploding as they echoed off the brick walls of the buildings. I had crossed the street when I heard someone else walking.
A young black man with dreadlocks was approaching me. He had a friendly air about him. He looked like a fellow college student just out for a walk or maybe he was getting something to eat, too. He spoke to me as we passed each other.
“Hey man, you got any spare change?” he asked.
I studied him for a moment. I had seen him on campus before. He was a young homeless man that frequented the area. He looked awfully hungry. I had not given much to the homeless in the past but I felt rather generous in that instant.
“Yeah, I’ve got about ten dollars.” I replied. I took the bag of breakfast food into my left hand and reached for my wallet with my right. As I was bringing my right hand forward so was he, but only he had something less appealing in his hand.
A shiny silver barrel was quickly pressed against my chest. I had no time to react. Every nerve in my body went numb. Time seemed to stop. I just stood there staring at the end of the barrel of his gun above my heart. His index finger steadily hovered over the trigger.
“What do you want?” I asked keeping my head down, eyes on the peacemaker.
“Gimme yo’ wallet!” he growled, “You better have more than ten dollars or I’m gonna shoot you! What else you got? Empty yo’ pockets!”
Without hesitation I handed over my cell phone and wallet. My hands shook with fear. I could not remember how much money I had. He instructed me to sit next to some trashcans in the shadows of an adjacent alley. As I sat down he kept the gun against my back until I was sitting still with my legs crossed. He then pressed the gun against my head and started fumbling through my wallet.
I was at the end of my life. I was going to die and accepted that. I had tried to do right most of my life. I knew I had made some mistakes, some bad decisions, but I felt like I had done well with the nineteen years I had lived through. There were so many things left to do, so many unspoken words. Struck with emptiness, my mind wandered. What would happen next? Who would find me in this alley? Would I be missed?
It was only until I started thinking about my family mourning their loss that I started to cry. Silent tears streamed down my face. Tasting the salt in my tears I felt hopeless, sourly alone in my deepening desolation. Images of my mother and father, brother, grandmother, aunts, and uncles weeping rushed into my imagination. I could see all of their faces. I could feel the anguish, the bitterness, and the sorrow that filled their hearts.
“It’s not worth it, man. It’s not worth it,” I sobbed.
He said nothing. Through watery eyes I could barely see him take out the money. Eleven dollars. I had eleven dollars. My soul purged with hope, I felt the blood in my body start to warm. There was a chance he might not kill me.
He took my driver’s license. “Now I know where you live,” he claimed.
He told me to stay in that spot, that he was coming back in a minute and if I were not there he would find me and kill me. As I sat there, my tears drying out, I remembered my biscuit and donut. I reached into the bag and grabbed the donut. It was the best donut I had ever tasted. The chocolate melted in my mouth. I savored every flavor, every bite. The sweetness lingered on my taste buds; it seemed to wash away my cares.
Within a minute he was back, as promised. He looked at me and then walked back around the corner. My ordeal was over. I had survived. I sat there for a couple of minutes, waiting to see if the man was going to come back for me. I stood up. My adrenaline was raging, pumping through every vein and artery in my body. Instinctively, I started to run. My legs carried me swiftly out of the alley and down the street with each step asserting my reason to live.
I arrived at my dormitory in a full sprint. My eyes were burning from the cold wind as I entered the building. I was alive. Nothing in that moment was taken for granted. I breathed in the warm, gentle air of life and gave a sigh of relief. I could feel the security of home again; its welcoming presence was otherworldly. Everything seemed new, fresh, and yet it was strangely familiar. Nothing had changed, except me.
Nearly fifteen minutes ago I had come face to face with the cold clutches of death and had accepted its hollow embrace. I had felt the spirit of death, the shallow emptiness that dwells inside of mankind, a raw and unforgiving power. Now I had a second chance, a new life. There were no limits, no last words to be said. I was free, full of love and wonder; determined and ready to live every moment of life with vigor and courage.
...thanks for reading, peace & good health...
