In a hospital, struggling to breathe, is it asthma? Not too serious, it seems, but then I die.
I hear the doctor telling my mother it was an infection, I see it from another viewpoint, and I realise I am watching. I am here, but not here. I become aware of my sister, looking straight at me, and looking around as if to say, ‘Can’t you see her too? She’s right there, am I seeing things?’ I go to touch her face, to wipe her tears, but we don’t connect. Suddenly she’s crying harder and I feel my hope sink.
Back at home, with my children, younger than I know they really are… they have regressed 6 or 7 years in my dreaming state. They are being told that I am with the angels, while I sit with my sister in the next room. She’s telling me that she’s the only one that sees me, that she won’t admit to anyone that I am there because they will believe her crazy with grief.
I follow my children around the house, and every once in a while I think they catch sight of me. I hear my daughter ask if ghosts are real and she is told, no… ‘You won’t see her again, hold on to your memories, make them last.’
I watch my daughter paint a picture and leave it next to me on the table. I pick it up, and hold to to the screen of the computer and the image transfers. I want her to feel me there, to know I am still watching and, for a second, she knows. She sees the image and looks at me, and smiles a sad smile. My son begins to cry and they curl up together on the sofa, holding each other tight. I sit next to them and stroke their hair, but I feel myself fading. I try to hold their hands but I cannot.
I am sitting with my friend now, and he sees me too. He listens to me talk and he says he will pass on my messages. He tells me to type them, so they are lasting, and this I can do. I sit at the table with my laptop in front of me and I type. I tell my family, my friends, that I am still there. I tell them that I still love, and care, and feel… and I recount my fondest memories of them so that they will know me for me.
Here is my littlest sister, just arrived. She talks to my other sister and her words are angry. She blames me for my absence, it seems, and I try to tell her that I am there. I talk to her as she cries frustrated tears that I will not see my children grow, that I will not be at her wedding, but she cannot hear. My other sister watches my face with a pained expression, but will not say a word. I try to type, but my fingers can’t meet the keys anymore. I am fading quickly and my voice is losing volume. She moves to sit and takes my seat, and I am pushed out.
I go back to my friend and ask him to watch out for my children. Make sure they are happy, I tell him, make sure they have everything, make sure they have someone. Tell them I would do anything to stay with them, let them know how loved they will always be. My voice is barely a whisper now, and he replies with a whisper of his own, ‘You ask too much…’ My heart is breaking.
I am in between worlds now. My surroundings melt, and a new view is forming. The sun shines on people I do not know, and I wonder how it can be heaven when it hurts so much…