The Sadness

It was not, in any way, her fault. The car had experienced a freak fault, and skidded out into a two-decade old tree that brought it to an abrupt halt. She had done everything in her power to prevent the crash. The impact had been uncharacteristically cruel. All three occupants of the vehicle had died instantly.

The odds were so astronomically bad that Death had first thought the situation reeked of divine influence. Zeus or Shiva, perhaps. But he could turn up no evidence on his inspection, so had to carry on.

He made a mental note to alert IA, and hoped they did their job this time.

Death stood now a respectful distance from the wreck, waiting patiently for the attention of the driver.

She was transfixed by the crumpled wreck before her, and the three bodies inside. She knelt, unmoving, staring in at the children in the back seat.

There were no tears. She was well beyond them, Death knew. It was not uncharacteristic. He wanted to reach out and provide some comfort, but he was severely limited on what he could tell her and his hand was skeletal. Not often overly comforting to the recently dead.

Slowly, she turned her head to see him.  Her lips worked out a sound with great effort.

"Why?"

Death stood motionless. He considered the question with care. Considered the platitudes humans share with each other in this situation. Considered the truth, as he knew it, incomplete and untrustworthy as it was. He settled on the only thing he could think that was not a complete lie, and not completely horrible.

He stepped forward, and took a knee beside her. Even so, he towered high above her.

"It is life." He shrugged, helplessly. It was not comforting, it was not helpful. But it was as close to the truth as he could manage.

The least he could do for her.

She was not satisfied.

The two of them stared at the car in silence, and time flowed around them. Death would not rush her.

People came. The bodies disappeared, the car vanished. The broken tree was removed. The grass grew, shrank, grew again.

Death and the woman sat.

Occasionally, the man would appear in the window and look down at the two of them mournfully.

Finally, she spoke. Her voice was cracked and dry.

"I would like to leave." She said, without looking at Death. He nodded in response, and held out his bony hand.

She did not look to it, but put her hand in its cold fingers. Death tried to take her away from the great sadness.

But she brought the Sadness with her, and Death realized that there was no escape from this Sadness. His eyes darkened, and he squared his shoulders to heft the load of her Sadness on to his.

He set his jaw, and resolved to have words with the Gods.