The Girl, the Moon, and Death

A sort of fairytale on grief

Photo by Javier Allegue Barros on Unsplash

Once upon a time, there was a girl who loved the moon. She loved the moon so deeply that every night she would sneak out just to see it.

The moon, who was often lonely during the long hours of the night, grew to appreciate the strange young girl. Every night, moonlight would illuminate a path for the little girl to the top of the hill by her home. Sometimes, the child would parade through the forest with creatures of the night. Other times, she would dance in the moonlight, playing hide and seek among the trees. But, mostly, the two would just spend hours talking.

The moon would describe to the girl all the fantastic places it saw every night: luminous beaches that glowed in the moonlight, beautiful cities that sparkled with color every night, vast oceans that mirrored the night sky, rolling mountains, and canyons like mazes in the Earth’s crust.

In turn, the girl would describe all the tiny details of life to the moon. The unique personalities of each of her family members: her studious father, her calming mother, her annoying brother and excitable cousins, even her boisterous uncle. She would vent to the moon about her frustrations with arithmetic, which it did not understand, but sympathized with anyway. The moon loved her descriptions of food more than anything: the feel of dough squishing between her fingers, the smell of her mother cooking breakfast in the morning, and especially the sweet taste of chocolate.

Denial

The two spent many nights together this way over the years, developing a deep fondness for one another. As the years went by, the girl grew and changed while her friend remained the same. Her limbs lengthened, her voice deepened, and her mind grew sharper. Not so much as a new line ever seemed to appear on her friend’s pale face, though.

One night, as dawn neared and the moon began to set, the girl spotted a dark figure in the distance.

“Who is that?” she asked.

“That is Death,” the moon answered.

“Why are they so far away?”

“Death is closer for some and very far away for others, but they eventually catch up to everyone,” the moon answered again.

“They’ll never catch up moving that slowly,” she laughed in response.

“Death is very patient. It’s inescapable, no matter how far you run. This is how it’s meant to be,” the moon warned as they sank below the horizon. The girl, being young and naïve, though, laughed and brushed off her friend’s warning.

Anger

More years passed, and the girl grew into a beautiful young woman. Her friend still remained unchanged, but she didn’t mind. Or so she told herself.

She was an adult now, and with maturity came freedom. The young woman traveled to all the places her friend had described to her. No matter where in the world she found herself, she always found her friend waiting for her.

She described to them how the beaches in Mosquito Bay, Puerto Rico, glowed from bioluminescent algae as she walked along the shore. Sometimes she spoke of twinkling lights and cozy cafes in Paris, France. She imitated the samba dancers with their colorful costumes at the Carnival festival in Brazil. Once, she called to the moon from the bottom of the Grand Canyon, recalling the treacherous path she hiked. Another time, she climbed Mount Kilimanjaro and whispered to her friend as the snow blanketed everything in silence.

The moon delighted in hearing about the wondrous places it could see but could not experience. For all her experience, though, the girl remained unsatisfied. Death was still far away, but she noticed how it had crept closer over the years. No matter where she went, Death was always right behind her. The moon, seeing her agitation one night, asked the young woman what was wrong.

“Death won’t go away. No matter where I go, Death always follows,” she vented.

“Death follows everyone,” the moon advised.

“Why, though? I don’t want Death here. Tell them to go away,” the young woman pleaded in frustration.

“I’m sorry, my friend, but this is the way it is meant to be. Death is nothing to fear. It is natural.” This answer only seemed to frustrate the young woman more, though, as she spotted Death hovering once again in the distance.

“Go away! You’re not welcome,” she yelled, but if Death had heard her, they gave no sign. The young woman would try many times over the next few years to run away from Death, but they always reappeared in the end, to her bemusement.

Bargaining

A few more years passed, and the young woman grew into a mature woman. Though she remained frustrated by Death’s presence growing closer, she ignored them. Among her many travels, she met a man. He was a kind, curious soul like her and told her stories of all the places he had been that she had not seen. The two fell deeply in love.

For the first time, the woman forgot about Death and spent many years traveling with the man. The woman introduced him to her oldest friend, and together they regaled the moon with new stories every night. On an especially bright night, the man gave the woman a star-shaped ring. They married and spent several blissful years together, eventually settling down.

The woman did not think of Death again. Until one day, her husband became incredibly ill. They visited many hospitals and many doctors, to no avail. On a dark night, her husband told her he could see Death right beside him. Seeing the panic in her eyes, he tried to soothe his wife.

“This is the way it’s meant to be,” he whispered.

But the woman could not accept this. For the first time, she sought Death out. Death was close enough for her to make out the details in their dark robe and their long bony fingers, but she could not reach them, no matter how hard she tried. So she spoke instead.

“Why do you run from me but hover so close to him?” she asked.

“Some meet me sooner than others. You are not ready yet,” Death’s calm voice replied.

“But he’s no older than I am. Surely, this is a mistake,” she wept.

“There are no mistakes in death,” Death replied.

“Please, take me instead. He is a good man. I’m the one who has cursed you, not him,” she begged.

“I am truly sorry,” Death shook their hooded head. “You must be patient. This is the way it must be.”

Depression

The woman wept for days when the man left with Death. She buried him on a bright sunny day, out of sight of her dearest friend. She could not bring herself to face the moon, and no matter how hard the moon tried, they could not coax the woman to come out.

“I’m sorry, my friend. Please let me be,” she said. The comfort of her friend reminded her too much of the man. Worry clouded the moon’s heart, but they did not pry.

The woman shut herself away from everything and everyone. She stashed away the pictures of their travels together and hid her star-shaped ring, unable to bear the reminders that cut her so deep. She felt Death hover closer, but she did not care. She welcomed it. She even asked them to take her as well, but Death refused.

‘You’re not ready’ was all Death would say. So she just curled up in the dark and waited.

One night, moonlight found its way through a crack in her curtains. The bright light soothed the woman like a balm on her broken heart. The scar was still there, but her friend’s love smoothed over the jagged edges. After a time, the woman found herself wandering beneath the moon again.

“I’m so sorry, my old friend,” she sobbed. “I know this is how it’s meant to be, but I still don’t understand.”

“Sometimes, there is nothing to understand,” the moon soothed.

Though her heart never quite healed, the passing of time made it easier. The woman grew even older, but she would not push her friend away again no matter how hard things became.

Acceptance

Several decades had passed since the girl first fell in love with the moon. She had finally grown into an old woman, while her dear friend had remained the same. No matter how her joints ached and how tired she got, she always made time for her friend.

She told her children and their children all about her adventures. They would stare in wonder as she told them wild fairy tales of all the places she had been, the things she had seen, and, of course, about her best friend, the moon. Occasionally, she would catch her young granddaughter whispering in the moonlight. When she asked the child what she was saying, the girl would giggle and tell her it was a private conversation.

As she lay in her bed listening to the laughter and conversation of her family, she smiled at the familiar figure standing next to her.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” she said to Death.

“I’m sorry I took so long, but you were worth the wait,” Death replied. They held out a pale hand to her, their skin almost as bright as the moon’s light.

“It’s alright; I had quite a good time waiting for you. That’s the way it’s meant to be, I suppose,” she laughed.

“Indeed,” Death agreed. She placed her hand in theirs and stood. Looking down at her body, she saw a serene smile on her face. As she glanced back into her mirror, she saw an apparition of her younger self.

“What happens now?” she asked.

“What was always meant to be. Come with me. I’ll show you.”

And so the woman walked with Death hand in hand. Passing her family, and she said a silent goodbye, wishing them well. They walked down the front porch steps and past the garden into the canopy of trees. It was dark, but the most beautiful light she had ever seen guided their path. Just beyond the edge of the trees, high on a hill beneath the moon, she spotted a familiar man holding a star-shaped ring. Death gestured to the man and nodded at the question in her eyes. She ran into the man’s embrace, laughing with joy.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” her friend beamed from above.

“I’m sorry, I got here as soon as I was meant to,” she smiled back.

Every night, the four old friends, Death, the moon, and the lovers, would share their stories into the wee hours of the morning. They spent their nights happy and together, the way it was always meant to be.