Scott Blum’s compelling prequel to his novel Waiting for Autumn introduces us to Don, a loving husband who faces a terminal illness:

Later that week, Don had an intensely vivid dream that felt incredibly real. It started in a light-filled tunnel swirling counterclockwise, with the path he was standing on remaining still. Then the entire tunnel dimmed to blackness, and he could hear footsteps walking toward him. As the ominous sounds grew more intense, he became acutely aware that he was standing completely naked. He felt vulnerable as he tried to cover himself with his hands. After several minutes, the footsteps were silenced and he could hear a figure breathing loudly immediately in front of him. As he tried to calm himself, he couldn’t help but feel that there was something familiar about the sound of the breath.

Slowly, the figure came into focus as the light around them began to brighten. The man standing there was of medium build and dressed entirely in white. Don strained to make out the details of his face and then rubbed his eyes in disbelief. After his focus completely returned, there was no mistaking it—the person who was standing before him looked exactly like Don himself. It was a feeling similar to looking in the mirror, with two major exceptions: there was twice as much energy emanating from the reflection, and the figure’s movements didn’t correspond to his own. Don’s focus returned to the fact that he was standing there naked, and when he looked down, he was relieved to find that he was now fully clothed. He was wearing exactly the same outfit as the person in front of him, yet his own was completely black. He imagined that there was some significance to the fact that he was clothed in black while the other was in white, but he was just happy he was no longer naked.

There was a long silence while the two stood staring at each other, until Don finally said: “Hi.”

“Hello,” said the other in a voice that was nearly identical to Don’s. After another uncomfortable silence, Don finally asked the only question he could think of: “Who are you?”

Without pausing, the man answered, “I’m Robert —nice to meet you.” Robert stretched out his hand in a greeting, but Don just stood there looking at it, dumbfounded. Robert retracted his hand after a few seconds, and Don felt a smirk creep onto his face. The smirk widened into a full smile, and within seconds he began laughing hysterically. He continued to laugh for over a minute and then doubled over at the waist and slapped the ground next to his feet as tears streamed down from laughing so hard.

“Robert!” exclaimed Don in between chuckles. “That’s classic! I finally meet my doppelgänger, and his name is Robert! Of course your name is Robert—why wouldn’t it be?” He didn’t know why the name struck him as funny, but it did. There was something ironic about a supernatural experience having such a common name.

“So, Robert”—he tried unsuccessfully to suppress his laughter—“what brings you here?”

“I’m here to help you.” Robert was getting noticeably annoyed.

“Help me? Help me with what?”

“With your transition. Anything you don’t understand or anything you could use some extra help with.”

“My transition?” Don’s laughter stopped instantly. “What transition?”

“Your transition to the next dimension—the next stage of your journey.”

Don took a few moments to reflect on these words. “Are you the grim reaper or something?”

“Not exactly.” It was now Robert’s turn to laugh. “I’m more of an advocate. I’m here to help you transition in whichever way you choose.”

“You mean you’re here to help me die?”

“That’s oversimplifying it a bit, but I guess you could say that.”

Don felt a chill on the back of his neck. “Are you the angel of death?”

“I wouldn’t say the angel of death, but I’m certainly one of them.”

“You mean there are more than one?”

“Of course there are. Do you know how many people die every day? There wouldn’t be time to do anything meaningful if there was only one of us.”

“I have a question,” said Don thoughtfully. “Why me? And—why now?”

“Everyone ultimately takes the same journey, and now is your time to be on Summer’s Path:

Spring flowers wither

Honey Moon condenses light

Summer’s Path begins.”

Robert smiled after reciting the haiku, and patiently awaited Don’s response.

“Um, okay. I guess I’ve never really understood poetry,” said Don.

“What do you mean by ‘Honey Moon condenses light’?”

“The Honey Moon is the first moon of summer—the moon that celebrates the summer solstice.”

“Okay . . . but how does that condense light?”

“After the first day of summer, the days begin to shorten. Leading up to summer, the days grow longer, so it’s easy to take light for granted. But as they get shorter, every second of light must be cherished.”

“Is light a metaphor for something?”

“Light is our life force—the energy we need to exist. Whether you call it a metaphor is up to you,” Robert laughed.

Don let Robert’s curious words sink in before continuing. “It’s ironic that it’s called a honeymoon, like after a wedding. Don’t you agree?”

“Not at all,” replied Robert. “Actually, I can’t think of a better word to mark the beginning of a life together.”

Don sat down on the narrow path and put his head into his hands as he remembered his honeymoon with Suzanne at Crater Lake. He knew life was short, yet he couldn’t help but feel he had been careless with his time with his wife. It saddened him to realize that he had taken his years with Suzanne for granted. And now it seemed as if he had once again come to a major crossroads. He needed to decide if he should let the cancer take its course or if he was prepared to shorten the process.

At that moment, the sound of a hundred voices began echoing inside his head. But the voice he kept hearing the loudest was Suzanne’s: “Don’t even joke about that . . .”

After the voices faded, Don slowly stood back up and looked deep into Robert’s eyes, trying to decide if he could trust him, and if he actually could help with the transition. “Okay, you have my attention—what can you do to help?”

“I can start by giving you advice about how to make your transition easier.”

“Like what?”

“The first thing you need to do is get your affairs in order. You don’t want to unnecessarily burden your loved ones once you pass on.”

“But I don’t have any money.”

“Yes, but you do have obligations, and that’s even more important to figure out. I recommend you visit a lawyer immediately.”

“A lawyer?” Don questioned. “Why do I need a lawyer? What should I ask?”

Robert had already turned and was walking away. He waved without looking back, and before fading into the distance, he said, “I’m an advocate, not a babysitter. Just go see a lawyer, and come back to me after you have the answer you need.”