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Death in all it's grace

 A river crashing into the rocks, the whooshing sound of the waves as it fell apart when they hit the rocks. A child standing at the edge of those rocks, staring into the abyss. It is cold, he feels the cold underneath his jacket and attempts to wrap the jacket even tighter around his torso. He is contemplating how dying would be. He had long come to terms with the idea of death and the peace it brought. A quote he heard a long time ago, really spoke to him, in this moment. Where I am, death is not. A final end to this existence, not a particularly miserable one. However, the words " the ultimate resting place" had quite a calming ring to them.  A good bye, but not like a sad one. A happy good bye of sorts in which you were choosing to let go instead of death springing on you, unsuspecting. Cold, that's what it would be. He whispered to himself, in such a reassuring tone, that surprised even the poor boy. “Where did that come from”, the boy wondered. And tried to get back to his earlier thoughts. Yes, he thought, Death, the ultimate rest, that sounds nice. Not a lot to look forward to as he didn't know a lot about death, but nothing to shy away from either. The next challenge in his heroic journey, as he kicked a small rock off the side. It sunk into the water, the boy tried to squint his eyes to see how far it had gone but to no avail. The fear of death springing on him suddenly, though difficult, he thought might help me live in a more fulfilled manner, treating every moment as it were my last. Another more critical voice spoke to him that would work in theory but not really in practice. 

He heard his mother calling out to him, he turned back and skipped across the rocks, heading back into the comfort of his family or at least what he assumed was comfort, forgetting for some time that the cold he had faced was not much different than the cold he was about to face. 

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