The final day.
My father mentioned that Gad-awful, up-coming day to me. He spoke with a touch of excitement in his voice, as if...as if...as if it should be a day...a day of celebration! My husband had to hold me tight and console me, as the sobs of doom and despair overtook me. I cried in his arms uncontrollably, while my body heaved and shook with anguish. A day of celebration? As if.

The presence of the Grim Reaper is all around me now. While I cannot yet see the blackness of his empty, soulless eyes, I still feel the Specter of Death coming closer, ever closer. I hear the sounds of his black hooded cloak dragging across the terrain, the clatter of the shaft upon his scythe, repeatedly striking the ground as he strides closer, closer, and ever closer. One day is all that is left of his journey, only one more day until he reaches my door.