{"id":794,"date":"2026-04-17T09:00:00","date_gmt":"2026-04-17T07:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/coffinfolk.se\/?p=794"},"modified":"2026-04-16T09:01:56","modified_gmt":"2026-04-16T07:01:56","slug":"17a-dikten-when-death-came-to-visit-av-andrea-gibson","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/coffinfolk.se\/en\/17a-dikten-when-death-came-to-visit-av-andrea-gibson\/","title":{"rendered":"The poem When Death Came To Visit by Andrea Gibson"},"content":{"rendered":"<p class=\"has-text-color has-link-color wp-elements-505e169cf9d2c67c1aa753884f4f53b2\" style=\"color:#3b3b3b\">I rarely read poetry, but sometimes you stumble upon a piece that carves out its own place in your heart. Andrea Gibson\u2019s poem When Death Came To Visit is one of those.<br><br>This was my first encounter with Andrea Gibson\u2019s writing, and it was with a heavy heart that I read they had been diagnosed with incurable cancer and passed away in the summer of 2025.<br><br>Andrea\u2019s surviving partner, Megan Falley, wrote more about the circumstances surrounding the creation of the poem, and when the time came to share it with the world. You can read that text <a href=\"https:\/\/andreagibson.substack.com\/p\/when-death-came-to-visit\" type=\"link\" id=\"https:\/\/andreagibson.substack.com\/p\/when-death-came-to-visit\">HERE<\/a>.<br><br>In this video, Andrea reads parts of the poem themselves. You\u2019ll find the full version further down this page. Listen, read along with Andrea, or read it quietly to yourself.<br>Let the words sink in and sit with them for a while, even if it feels a little unsettling at first.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-embed is-type-video is-provider-youtube wp-block-embed-youtube wp-embed-aspect-16-9 wp-has-aspect-ratio\"><div class=\"wp-block-embed__wrapper\">\n<iframe loading=\"lazy\" title=\"When Death Came to Visit\" width=\"640\" height=\"360\" src=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/embed\/tnq4DVkTWb8?feature=oembed\" frameborder=\"0\" allow=\"accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share\" referrerpolicy=\"strict-origin-when-cross-origin\" allowfullscreen><\/iframe>\n<\/div><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading has-text-color has-link-color wp-elements-451ce5b494caa30f0ff2199cde653c12\" style=\"color:#3b3b3b\"><strong>When Death Came To Visit<\/strong><\/h3>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-color has-link-color wp-elements-b62cddc52ede0daf32a37f9307814156\" style=\"color:#3b3b3b\">When death first came to visit, I refused<br>to let her enter my home. She sat outside<br>in the garden picking buttercups, painting<br>her face the color of the sun.<br><br>I stood at the window for hours<br>watching her, thinking, <em>Why is she still here?<br>It\u2019s not like she has nowhere to go.<\/em> I\u2019d try to sleep,<br><br>but as soon as I closed my eyes<br><br>I would hear her outside talking<br>daisies into blooming at night.<br>I suspect she knew, I too am the type<br>to open my petals for the moon.<br><br>On my eighth night awake, I did it.<br>I don\u2019t know how, but I did it\u2013\u2013I walked out<br>to the garden and invited her in. I poured her<br>a cup of lavender tea. I made up her bed<br><br>and turned down the lights. I wished her good<br>dreams, though I knew her good dream<br>was to one day take my life.<br>I used to believe I knew my purpose,<br><br>thought for sure I understood my calling.<br>But my calling, I now know, has always been<br>this: to parent my own departure.<br>To never punish the child for being who she is.<br><br>To keep a roof over the head of the truth.<br>To raise what will end me, with love.<br><br>Now people often ask how it feels<br>raising a delinquent, a child capable<br><br>of such awful behavior.<br>But what rule has she ever broken<br>besides the ones we make up in our minds?<br>Ask me instead how it feels to raise a genius,<br><br>a child with a boundless IQ.<br>She could get away with anything, yes.<br>She could get away with me any minute.<br>But I trust her. I have to.<br><br>I see some of the letters on a chart on a wall.<br>She has infinity\/infinity vision.<br>Besides, who would I be if I were someone<br>who would say, <em>I\u2019m gonna ground you<\/em><br><br><em>for wanting to heaven me?<\/em><br>I won\u2019t do that, ever. It doesn\u2019t matter<br>if I made her with my body or not. She\u2019s mine.<br>I owe her a stable home. I owe her an allowance<br><br>without the stipulation<br>that she use it to buy me more time.<br>At night when I tuck her in, I read her a story<br>with the same three words on every page:<br><br>You are innocent. You are innocent. You are innocent,<br>I say. Before I close the book she asks,<br><em>But have you ever known anyone who is so unwanted?<\/em><br>It\u2019s the saddest question in the universe,<br><br>and she asks it everytime.<br>\u201cPeople don\u2019t know you,\u201d I say. \u201cThey\u2019ll want you<br>when they meet you, won\u2019t they?\u201d She says yes,<br>looking me dead in the eye.<br><br><em>And you<\/em>, she adds. <em>You\u2019re really okay<br>with who I want to be when I grow up?<\/em><br>I know I have to answer honestly.<br>I say, \u201cI don\u2019t want you to grow up too fast.<br><br>You know that. You know I can\u2019t help<br>but be one of those parents who wishes their child<br>could stay a child forever. It\u2019s only because I\u2019ve cherished<br>these years so much. But when you\u2019re ready,<br><br>I\u2019ll be ready, I promise. I\u2019ve committed<br>the rest of my days to learning how<br><br>to give you my blessing when it\u2019s time<br>for you to follow your dreams.<br><br>I know it\u2019s how you say, <em>I love you.<\/em><br>I know others will hear it as a curse<br>and try to rinse your mouth out with soap.<br>But I will hear your <em>I love you.<\/em><br><br>I will hear it so clearly my last words will be<br><em>I love you too<\/em>, as I watch you<br>make something of yourself,<br><br>as I open my petals for the moon.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<hr class=\"wp-block-separator has-alpha-channel-opacity\"\/>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-color has-link-color wp-elements-c806c7512376c10381ddd1f6a4bd46fe\" style=\"color:#3b3b3b\">I recognize myself so much in how Andrea describes their own relationship with Death, even though my image of Death looks different.<br><br>My hope is that you will be moved, and that you might begin to see your own\u2014and others\u2019\u2014mortality in a different way.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-color has-background has-link-color wp-elements-d5f59aec9564a5aa98f5d432c30d8874\" style=\"color:#f6f1eb;background-color:#718072\"><strong>Would you like to continue exploring your own image of Death? Get to know it better <a href=\"https:\/\/coffinfolk.se\/en\/lar-kanna-din-doden\/\" type=\"link\" id=\"https:\/\/coffinfolk.se\/lar-kanna-din-doden\/\">HERE<\/a>.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading has-text-color has-link-color wp-elements-3c4fc957de25d3bfd5c494589ea2324f\" style=\"color:#3b3b3b\">A short story with Quinley &amp; Herrow<\/h2>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-image size-large\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"1024\" height=\"427\" src=\"https:\/\/coffinfolk.se\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/10\/cropped-Coffinfolk-HerrowQuinley-1024x427.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-428\" srcset=\"\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px\" data-srcset=\"\" \/><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-color has-link-color wp-elements-eba172ab5b572d50d67c9168090a96b0\" style=\"color:#3b3b3b\"><strong>Who are Quinley and Herrow?<\/strong><br>In Coffinfolk Caf\u00e9\u2019s stand alone short stories, you\u2019ll meet two most unlikely friends:&nbsp;<br><strong>Quinley<\/strong> \u2013 Coffinfolk\u2019s caf\u00e9 host. A young woman who loves life just as much as she loves exploring the cultural heritage of death and sharing advice, information, and insights that can help people \u2013 whether they are facing their own encounter with Death or living with grief.<br><strong>Herrow<\/strong> \u2013 Death himself. He may look frightening in his black cloak, but beneath the bones is a kind soul who enjoys a cup of coffee and sharing experiences gathered from every corner of time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-color has-link-color wp-elements-49dc4f79fcda54fa37ef20f305a83ebf\" style=\"color:#3b3b3b\">You can find a longer introduction + a short story about their first meeting <a href=\"https:\/\/coffinfolk.se\/en\/om-coffinfolk\/#intro-QH\">HERE<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading has-text-color has-background has-link-color wp-elements-9f010bb81bb67183b68055125b51a40d\" style=\"color:#f6f1eb;background-color:#a0522d\"><strong>\u201cThe Accused\u201d<\/strong><br>Narrated by Quinley<\/h3>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-color has-link-color wp-elements-cc5356954f7a4808ebf577c99f7d5fb9\" style=\"color:#3b3b3b\">I had a feeling what was about to happen.<br>The grieving woman seemed almost surrounded by a visible darkness. Like a grey raincloud hanging over her head, ready at any moment to drench her in another downpour of rain and thunder. <br>She glared at Herrow. Her companion tried to draw her back into their conversation, placing a hand over hers. The tender gesture had almost the opposite effect. The woman pulled her hand away and pushed her chair back.<br>\u201cMalin, wait. Come on, sit down again. Please?\u201d Malin didn\u2019t seem to hear.<br><br>When I had passed their table earlier, I\u2019d caught that Malin\u2019s husband had passed away after a period of illness. The man who had always been healthy, always active, always full of ideas and plans for the future. Now he was gone, and all the pain that followed was Death\u2019s fault.<br><br>Herrow seemed to have something like a sixth sense for when people had something to say to him. He rose calmly from his place on the sofa as Malin came stomping toward him, her hands clenched at her sides.<br><br>\u201cOh no, not again,\u201d I muttered quietly to myself, turning my back and pretending to fuss with the rows of tin canisters lining the shelves behind the counter. The thought crossed my mind to retreat into Harley\u2019s office until it was over, but I didn\u2019t want to leave Herrow\u2014even if I knew he was more than capable of handling these kinds of encounters.<br><br>I almost expected my hair to start crackling in the charged air. Please, let it be quick. A sudden release, like a lightning strike.<br>Malin\u2019s voice bounced off the walls as she let Herrow hear exactly what she thought of his existence, his purpose, and the fact that he had taken her husband from her.<br>Herrow replied in his usual calm, slightly raspy tone:<br>\u201cWhat I do, I do with love.\u201d&nbsp;<br>That, apparently, was the final straw. Her voice twisted into a wailing scream, followed by the sound of fabric tearing apart and ancient bones hitting the floor.<br>I squeezed my eyes shut when I heard the dry, brittle crack of bones breaking and being crushed to dust under her shoe.<br><br>It probably lasted only seconds, but it felt like hours\u2014until everything fell silent, and the only sound left was Malin\u2019s inconsolable sobbing.<br>Footsteps clattered against the worn wooden floor as her friend hurried forward.<br>I glanced over my shoulder and met the friend\u2019s gaze.<br>\u201cI\u2019m so sorry. We\u2014 we\u2019ll go now,\u201d the other woman apologized, wrapping her arms around Malin as she guided them both toward the door. All I could do was nod.<br>As soon as they turned their backs, Herrow reappeared\u2014just as calm and composed as ever, even though Malin had just tried to turn him into a heap of bone dust and torn cloth.<br>He raised a hand, and I wasn\u2019t sure if it was to say goodbye for now, or if he had wanted to place it gently on Malin\u2019s shoulder.<br><br>The door closed with a soft thud. I practically leapt over the counter to hurry to Herrow and wrap my arms around his thin form.<br>\u201cI\u2019m sorry I didn\u2019t step in,\u201d I murmured into the soft black fabric.<br>\u201cIt is not your task to try to control her outburst. If it hadn\u2019t happened here, it would have happened somewhere else. At least here, she had a friend to lean on.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-color has-link-color wp-elements-39b4c88a330a2c82319e62c834feac8d\" style=\"color:#3b3b3b\">I rested my forehead against Herrow\u2019s collarbone.<br>\u201cGrief can bring out the worst in people sometimes\u2026\u201d<br>\u201cShe is devastated. She is sad. She is disappointed. She is angry. Her husband did not choose to leave her, but your human emotions are not always the most logical\u2014even when you know, deep down, what truly happened.\u201d Herrow twirled a strand of my hair around a bony finger as he continued, \u201cRight now, she cannot allow herself to admit that it is her husband she is truly angry with, so she directs that anger at me instead.\u201d<br><br>I turned my head and looked at the paper still resting on the counter. A beautiful poem a guest had shown me earlier that day\u2014When Death Came To Visit, written by Andrea Gibson. <br>I held Herrow tighter and quoted a few lines that had truly moved me:<br><em>\u201cYou are innocent. You are innocent. You are innocent.\u201d<\/em><br>Herrow gave a soft chuckle and filled in Death\u2019s voice from the poem:<br><em>\u201cBut have you ever met anyone so unwanted?\u201d<\/em><br>Tears burned behind my eyelids as I continued:<br><em>\u201cPeople don't know you.\u201d<\/em><br><br>I felt sorrow for Malin\u2019s pain. I felt sorrow for all the people who live half a life in their fear of death. Sorrow for Death, who exists as the eternally accused\u2014when all he does is say I love you as he guides us toward whatever comes next.&nbsp;<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>I rarely read poetry, but sometimes you stumble upon a piece that carves out its own place in your heart. Andrea Gibson\u2019s poem When Death Came To Visit is one of those.<\/p>","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":795,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"inline_featured_image":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[22,42],"tags":[46,24],"class_list":["post-794","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-dodspositiv","category-popularkultur-media","tag-dikt","tag-dodspositiv"],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v27.4 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/product\/yoast-seo-wordpress\/ -->\n<title>Dikten When Death Came To Visit av Andrea Gibson - Coffinfolk Caf\u00e9<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Ibland snubblar man \u00f6ver en text som karvar ut en egen plats i hj\u00e4rtat. 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