Imagine watching death.
Imagine watching death by choice. To tell a story.
Imagine seeing a human lay down on a table in front of you, restrained, waiting for death to take them.
Death comes through the door in a uniform, shirt tucked in.
Death carries a needle. Actually, make that three needles.
The human screams, seeing death too.
And pretty soon, we’re all screaming.
One of us on the outside. The rest of us on the inside.
Death enters the human body. Vomit exits the human body.
Death enters the heart. Life leaves the human.
Death is unimaginable until it’s real. In front of us, or in us.
Death shouldn’t be this way. We shouldn’t watch it this way, like a movie on a screen.
But we do. And we write about it, as I did.
Because maybe, just maybe, stories can change the narrative.
-Cliff
Cliff’s Note: This is a refection moments after reading about the execution of John Grant, a death row inmate who was imprisoned in Oklahoma for more than 20 years. I don’t know much about judgement. I am not the judge. But some people are, and some people have to make decisions that end a life like this. I don’t know if I will ever understand.