When Life Walks with Death
written by: Sarb Randhawa
Just two friends.
They don’t say much. Never needed to.
You’d miss them if you weren’t paying attention—
one stops to tie a child’s loose shoelace,
the other waits outside the door when someone’s not waking up.
They’ve been walking side by side for a long, long time.
Since before clocks, before names.
They’ve sat by cracked wells,
by hospital beds,
under trees where someone once waited for a letter that never came.
We call them Life and Death.
Not that they care for names.
They never argued. Never tried to outrun each other.
One starts things,
the other finishes them.
But most days, you can’t tell which is which.
Sometimes Life brings pain so sharp,
you think surely this must be Death.
And sometimes Death comes like a soft hand on the shoulder,
after too many years of hurting.
They don’t explain.
They just look at you,
and somehow, you understand.
And us—
we live in between them.
Not knowing how long we’ve got.
Lighting lamps with hands that tremble.
Feeding birds even when no one watches.
Breaking, healing, breaking again.
Loving people who may not stay.
Sitting by old cupboards that still smell like someone we miss.
Whispering “I’m fine” when we’re not.
This is life.
And also, a little bit of death.
Because both hold us.
Like two hands around a small flame.
Not to put it out.
Just to keep it safe for as long as it burns.
And when it flickers near the end,
one of them will lean in—
no rush, no fear.
Just a quiet friend, saying,
“It’s time.”
And the other will stay behind,
keeping the rooms warm
for whoever’s still here.
- When Life Walks with Death - September 11, 2025
