Godfather, Godfather, Come and Collect Me

One of my favourite things about my Godfather is his cloak made of feathers. Each feather a different colour. Each colour representing a different soul he has collected. Some feathers as black as adultery, the souls of evil men and women. Some feathers as white as chastity, the souls of children who never got the chance to be bad. Some grey, purple, red, green, all different colours, all different shades, never repeating.

The first time I met my Godfather, I was dying. I was choking on a coin. I was 11 months old. It had looked like food (as did everything else) to my young mind. He stood at my right and I was the only one who could see him. I reached for him and he just laughed and ruffled my hair. My father grabbed me, panicking and shook me around until the coin made it’s way back up my throat. It’s probably not what he should have done, but it was the only thing he could think of, he’s not exactly a doctor.

The second time I met my Godfather, I was dying. I had fallen out of a tree. I was 7 years old. I wanted to touch the sky. The branch snapped, I screamed and fell 10 metres. He stood at my right and I was the only one who could see him. I wanted to reach for him, only I couldn’t. He ruffled my hair. My mother rushed outside having heard my scream and called an ambulance. I had a broken arm, 8 broken ribs and a collapsed lung.

The third time I met my Godfather, I was dying. I was hit by a car. I was 10 years old. It was a hit and run. I had been alone, walking to the shops. He stood at my right and I was the only one who could see him. I saw him reach for my hand, only to suddenly stop and go for my head instead. He ruffled my hair. Witnesses rushed to my side and they all kept on shouting for someone to call an ambulance. It took about 5 minutes before people realised that no one had actually called an ambulance and then someone did.

The fourth time I met my Godfather, I was dying. I had appendicitis. I was 14 years old. At first my mother ignored my complaints. She thought it was just period pains, it wasn’t. He stood at my right and I was the only one who could see him. I wanted to reach for him but my mother was in the room. He ruffled my hair. The nurse walked in to wheel me to the operating room. As the door close I saw him smiling at me.

The fifth time I met my Godfather, I was dying. I don’t think it was my fault… well it could’ve been. I shouldn’t have provoked him. I was 17 years old. I had known him for years, he was my boyfriend, and I don’t exactly remember how, but I made him angry. The hits keep on coming one after another. He stood at my right and I was the only one who could see him. He moved swiftly and reached for my boyfriend, only to stop suddenly and adopt a blank face. He ruffled my hair. My boyfriend left. I slowly reached for my phone and dialed triple zero. The ambulance was there within 10 minutes.

The sixth time I met my Godfather, I was dying. I had overdosed on my antidepressants. I was 18 years old. I grabbed the bottle and swallowed them one by one. I lay down on my bed and closed my eyes and went to sleep. I woke up to see the empty bottle of pills next to my bed and me sister screaming my name. He stood at my right and I was the only one who could see him. He looked so disappointed, I wanted to reach for him. He ruffled my hair. My sister called for my mum, my mum called an ambulance. My stomach pumped, and the doctors watched me closely.

The seventh time my Godfather met me, I was dead. I was 22 years old. I was in a bus crash along with 30 other people. I don’t remember exactly what happened. We were coasting along one second and then rolling the next. He stood to the bus' left and I was not the only one who could see him. One by one he grabbed the other people's hands and lead them away. I waited for my turn. I was last. I expected him to ruffle my hair, he did not though. He smiled at me and took my hand and lead me away too.

He is my Godfather, he is your Godfather, he is everyone's Godfather. You might meet him only once, you might meet him over 100 times, but you will meet him in the end, it is inevitable. He will hold your hand and lead you away smiling quietly, or he will drag you away as you kick and scream, but you will go with him, that is inevitable. You will be by his side for the rest of existence, and he will smile at you, and care for you, and love you as a Godfather should, and you will be happy.