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There is no definite way to describe death, yet there is so many, calm and peaceful, loud and painful. So many ways to describe up to the moment and so many ways to show how it has past, almost always ending with their eyes falling closed peacefully or serene faces. People don’t like to tell about the anguishing ones, the ones that didn’t want to go, the ones that cried out defiantly that fought every moment, the ones that saw and felt themselves dying not able to do anything.
I’m not here to tell you there is only one way to describe death, it happens in many ways, but I can tell you it comes for everyone.
Or so I thought.
I was dying having been beaten to the point of death by the Joker, I had had a lot of harsh trials in my life, the loss of my father, then the loss of my mothers, having to run on the streets not only toward food but away from people who wanted to sell and abuse me. I got a small break when Bruce took me in, I hadn’t had a lot as a child, and when you suddenly have everything in front of you, the first thing you think of is, where’s the catch when does the bad things happen. What do they want, what do I have to give up to have this small pleasure? Nothing came from Bruce, not demanding that I bend over for him or anyone else, he put me in clothes, school, gave me food, and much more, he wasn’t always the most loving but I wouldn’t have liked I like to think but I knew somewhere that’s what I had wanted, someone to just say ‘Jason you’ve done so good. I’m so proud, I love you.’ But that’s what I used to call sissy stuff and even now I would deny it myself.
I used to be such a brat, but I wasn’t always so angry like I am now; I was loveable, sweet, and even funny -at least I had thought so- I didn’t always get along with Dick, Bruce, or Barbara but they were still the most real family I had had ever had.
Bruce was such a stern and never changing figure in my young life that everything seemed more steady when I looked at him but I would never tell him that not even now.
Dick was playful and always had a smile, it reminded me to smile more often, it made me feel like a kid and even now I feel younger even if I dont’ say anything.
Barbara was so sassy and smart it really rounded me out to be have someone just as witty on to me without even thinking about it, even now with her in a wheelchair I still look up to her and wait for her next remark.
I was also very arrogant as a child it wasn’t obvious all the time and none of them ever saw me as a failure or even what was to come, yeah they knew I could get angry when we faced up against criminals who deserved it but no one saw this coming. Not even Bruce.
A few short years after becoming Robin I made one of the worst and best choice of my life that not only ended it but began again.
Pain. That’s one thing I can always remember when I think back and everytime I see a clown, I’ve gotten over the pain, I’ve forgave Bruce even though it took so long, I had been so angry at everyone, or so I thought but really it was me I was so angry at that I lashed at everyone else so I’d stop feeling that way about myself.
Now it’s all about forgiving myself and when I finally meditate to do that. It never happens, I get the anger and regret I had when I was younger, those last few moments of life.
I remember barely being propped up on on my side staring at that bomb and just thinking, “I don’t want to die. I don’t want to. I have so much I wanna do.”
The bomb had gone off and I remember my body being crushed by debris but didn’t die immediately which was the worst, I was breathing in the black smoke that had no where to go, “I’m not going to make it. I wanna go to school, I hate the homework and the stupid snotty kids, but I wanna go. I wanna grow up, I wanna be Robin still. I want.. to live..”
“This isn’t fair.. please.. I’ll do anything..”
No amazing angel came to save a kid who made a dumb choice. Remember when I said there is no way to describe death? This comes in handy here, there just isn’t until you’ve experience a near life ending experience, it’s like trying to describe a color to a blind person, you can go on and on around it but it’s hard not to just say, “I died.” or “It’s the color red.”
When I came back into the world there was more pain, everything that was me was torn from being dead to being back alive. I still had all that anger at not being saved, at myself for being stupid.
Now I’m sitting with my pistols in my lap, smoking a cigarette over the people I had to kill to save more lives, if there wasn’t people like this, kids like I had been wouldn’t have had to die.
That’s just the way I see it and nothing is going to change that. I’ll do anything to keep the justice.