I never thought anything of my son’s night time ritual. He would come to my bedroom and whisper a three-part phrase in my ear before going to sleep. It wasn’t until his father died that I truly understood the meaning of his words.

My son is a strange kid. He has a lot of habits that we as parents find odd, and some we can’t help but find completely disturbing. For example, the young man is utterly obsessed with death. Every chance he got, he would ask questions about death and dying. He would ask how it felt, if it were painful, and what happened to the body after. We were deeply disturbed by these questions, so we decided to sit him down and have a serious talk about death.<br><br>Death was a natural part of life. Everybody dies eventually, and it is just a part of our world’s cycle. He would grow up one day, meet a woman, have children, have grandchildren, and eventually die of old age. It was a part of life that we all had to experience.<br><br>He asked more questions, and we answered them the best we could. We were happy that we could assuage his fears, but it only seemed to make things worse. He continued his questions about death to random people he met. We would take him to church, and he would ask the preacher about death. We would go to the park, and he would ask other parents about death. Hell, one time we went to a funeral, and he asked a pallbearer about death.<br><br>We were mortified at his antics. We thought he was broken in the head. We decided that maybe this was a teachable moment. I sat my son down and explained what would happen to a person’s body after death. I told him about decomposition, how the skin and muscle would slowly start to rot away. I told him that the body would then turn to ash and dust, and we would all eventually turn to nothing more than a pile of dirt. My son listened, and I thought that maybe this was enough to make him happy and move on with life.<br><br>It wasn’t enough, and he continued to ask questions about death. He asked what death would feel like, if it was painful, if there was an afterlife. We were at our wits' end, and we couldn’t answer any of his questions. The boy just wouldn’t let up, and we didn’t know what to do.<br><br>One night, after putting him to bed, he came into my room. This wouldn’t be the first time he did this. Every night, he would come into my room and say a three-part phrase. It was the only thing he said every night, and it was the only thing that would put him to sleep.<br><br>First, he would say, “You will never die.”<br><br>Then he would say, “I will never die.”<br><br>Finally, he would say, “It would be better that way.”<br><br>This was becoming a ritual for the two of us. I would lay in bed and listen to him say his three-part phrase. It was the highlight of my night, and I really enjoyed this one-on-one time with my son.<br><br>One night, he didn’t say the phrase. I waited up for him, but he didn’t come in. I was a bit confused, so I went to check on him. I opened his door, and I was met with a wonderful sight. He was sleeping like a baby. It was the first night he had slept through the night in months. Finally, all of our hard work had paid off.<br><br>It seemed that my son had finally started to grow up, and he was leaving his odd habits behind. We would hear stories from other parents about their children and the strange things they would do. A lot of children have habits similar to my son’s. They would see or hear things that weren’t there. They would have imaginary friends. Our son was finally showing signs that he was maturing.<br><br>One night, he came into my room. It had been months, and I thought he had grown out of his ritual. I had almost forgotten the three-part phrase he used to say. I had almost forgotten how much joy it brought me. I was so happy that my son decided to continue his night time ritual.<br><br>First, he said, “You will never die.”<br><br>Then he said, “I will never die.”<br><br>Finally, he said, “It would be better that way.”<br><br>I was so happy. I felt like a kid again, and I was so grateful to relive this moment. I was overcome by emotion, and I couldn’t help but weep. My son had finally come back to me.<br><br>I decided to see him again, and I tiptoed into his room. My son was dead, hanging himself from the ceiling. Tears of joy streamed down my face as I looked at his lifeless corpse. My son had finally left his odd habits behind.