Memento Mori

Written By: Audrey Pomeroy
Graphic By: Jessye Fan

Any other 9-5, (albeit with different hours). You wake up, dig the crust from the corners of your eyes, pour a cup of coffee, and drag yourself to work. You clock in, you clock out. Some of us love our job, some of us hate it, none of us will ever leave. Our boss is domineering, a typical God complex, (afterall, it was named after him). No mistakes can be made. No single thing can slip through the cracks. No errors: Only perfection. No alternative.

For a little bit of background, I came as one entity, but through the millenia, as the population has increased exponentially, one being could not keep up with the tasks at hand. I am good at my job, but caring for the souls of a million humans is a different beast than that of nearly 8 billion. 

Humans have always had different names for me, different visions of my unending presence, so I took inspiration from them and I delegated, splitting myself into different beings and recruiting willing souls to handle what I alone cannot. agencies comprise our company. In the past, we handled our jobs regionally,, but as the world became more complex, we decided to split our duties based on aptitude and vantage point. 

Ironically, the most human thing conceivable is carried out by non-humans. I, of course, do not work in the field anymore. My bones are now worn, my sockets now tired, my cloak now tattered, and my scythe now dull. All of this is relative of course, obviously I have no true physical vessel, but I have found it easier to run my company with a body than as a wandering soul, loose from the material realm.

Although we are a universal experience, no two people experience us in the same way. Our 6 agencies handle all manners of our job, figureheads from around the world.

We are death.

La Parca, Illness

I work alone. They never see me, trapped in fogs of grief. I take those whose bodies lost the war with themselves, those whose medics lost their fight with time. not their fault, I will meet them all sooner or later. Although my presence yields with the salt-burned eyes of the living, I bring no pain to those I take, only guidance and perhaps comfort. I will always be present, perhaps not always with my shears the way I once was – cutting the strings of souls whose time has run out, but now with my scythe, not for slashing the lives of my patrons, but for protecting them on our journey. Although my tasks have changed throughout the years as medicine improves, I will never be obsolete. Humans never cease to find new ways to destroy their bodies and call me to their sides.

La Calavera Catrina, Old Age

You would never truly live if you did not die. I choose not to see myself as the absence of life, but rather the one thing that makes life worth living! Most shun me, but in some cultures, I am celebrated as I should be. Marigolds litter streets in my honor. My welcoming face plastered on posters, signs, and candies, I represent a celebration of life, fortunate to be revered and worshiped during Dia de los Muertos. I am fortunate not to work a difficult job. While others are entrusted with the soothing of souls taken too soon, I revel in my privilege to celebrate my wards! As their time runs out at the ends of their long lives, on our journey home we recount happy memories and smile lines. We look forward to the day they will see their loved ones gone past. As we travel, I watch the wrinkles they acquired fade as their souls turn to light and they are set free!

Jeoseung Saja  (저승사자), Victims of Violence

My job is one to be taken seriously, one that I alone can do. unclean, and painful to most. Witnessing the horrors of man would wear on most souls. Seeing the hurt, the angry, the unhinged. My wards are not patrons being gently guided home, souls tapped on the shoulder and led to their rest. They are victims, bodies ripped apart, and souls ripped from their bodies at the hands of the abominable. I catch the souls of those hurt before they fall to more harm. My soul does not grow tired, my heart does not grow black, witnessing the worst of humankind. No other agency could take my job, La Calavera Catrina would grow weepy, Mictantecuhtli would rip the souls of the killers from their bodies, banishing them to the dark before their time, Cu Sith cannot comprehend the evils of man. My job is a difficult one, but one in which I take pride; my wards do not deserve pity, but a dignified end.

Mictlantecuhtli, Death for the Evil

I am anger. I represent all of the hatred from all victims of violence and wrong, using it as fuel for my filthy job. I rip the evil soul from wretched carapace, letting it rot in its filth for eternity. I avenge those who have been wronged! I spend much of my time in prisons, where the miserable are meant to be. Sometimes filthy souls call me to their side, thinking I will offer relief from the hellhole in which they reside, they think they call Hel, the holder of those who die a self-inflicted death. I do not offer peace, but an eternity of pain! I take the horrible, he who exists only for himself and only takes from others. I am not an entity that one can pray to, with pathetic voices begging for mercy that was once begged of them. The other agencies stay away from me. They should. I work alone for a reason.

The Shinigami (死神), Death of Soldiers

We are many, and we travel together. As soldiers die, they often do so together, bound by circumstance and by duty. We, bound by the same duty, offer safe passage. War keeps us busy. The hatred of humans never ceases to amaze and busy us! The World Wars before our current time are the reason we are so many. So many lives, so many trips back and forth from the realm of humans and the one in which we reside. We were overworked and begged for more help and it was given! We have no battles of such great scale now, meaning we can split up more than we could before, attending to smaller conflicts across the globe. Still, we remain ever-ready for another conflict to come, one so large that we will once again be forced to multiply our resources. We remain hopeful, but ever-prepared.

Cù Sìth, The Death of Children

I hate the meaning of my job, but I love what I get to do with it. I get to be around my favorite kind of people all of the time! They’re always so scared to leave their moms and dads and come to me, but once they warm up, I get lots of love and petting and hugging. I know it seems impossible, but I genuinely do love every one of my wards with my whole heart. I am entrusted with the protection of the kindest and most innocent souls that our world still has to offer, and I am so grateful that I get to! I know it’s hard for them, but they know that one day, they’ll see their moms and dads again, and they need to be brave and travel to their resting place with me.