From Above

It was hard for me to accept my fate, at least at first. I didn't want to believe that something had happened to me, and now I was forced to stay away from my loved ones. Even in this place, so full of peace and light, my soul was unsettled. I was put on mission after mission, needed and desired by many. Yet, I could not gain the ultimate happiness when I helped them. My mind was still riveted to the two people who meant the most to me.

The one friend that I had bothered to have and keep in this place understood my issue sevenfold. He sympathized with my situation and detailed the steps to getting over it. I took his advice like it came from the mouth of God Himself, yet I still could not move past my thoughts. He explained to me that whoever it was up there that looked after us didn't expect us to move past what we used to have. That wouldn't be fair, nor would it sit right on one's conscience. What he said though, had little effect on me. I wouldn't be able to do my job with a happy heart if I didn't get to do what I wanted just one last time.

"Whitney," Jimmy sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "I don't understand why you keep doing this to yourself."

"I'm not doing anything to myself!" I shot back, anger rolling through my body like a dark, swollen thundercloud.

"You're torturing yourself with their images every day. I think you forget that the Afterlife is open to everyone here, and that includes your thoughts," Jimmy spoke, his voice wise and temperate.

"I can't help it Jim. I'm trying to do what is asked of me so that there is no conflict, but I keep thinking about them," I admitted, letting my defensive guard down.

Jimmy floated over to me, the dark gray robe he was wearing, which was similar to mine, clinging shapelessly over his gangly body. He took a seat next to me on the veranda, his hand touching my shoulder.

"It's going to be harder and harder as the days pass if you keep thinking back to them. At least give them the satisfaction of knowing that you're happy here, and mean it."

What Jimmy said was true, but I couldn't help but think about the two most important people in my life, who lay just on the other side of the Afterlife. His eyebrows scrunched up as my thoughts ran naked through the air, finally catching on that a little pep talk could not drag my thoughts away from them. He sighed, his hands rubbing his face agitatedly.

"What can I do to make you stop this nonsense? It's only going to continue to get worse for you until someone finds out and takes it upon themselves to stop you," Jimmy muttered.

My eyes instantly brightened as he spoke, my hands coming together to make a loud clap. Jimmy startled slightly, now watching me like a hawk.

"Oh Jimmy, take me to them! Please!" I cried as his blue eyes widened even more.

He shook his head quickly, a grim smile titling his lips upwards. His shoulders hunched and he looked down at the ground, not wanting to meet my gaze.

"That is against the rules, Whit," he muttered.

I grew exasperated quickly, looking at the not so innocent face of the man who had become my best friend in the Afterlife. He shifted nervously on the veranda bench, not willing to meet my questioning gaze. Finally, I had had enough, and threw my hands up in the air.

"Jesus, Jimmy! You go down to Earth all the time! Whenever a fan is in desperate need of you, you're there to comfort them. Whenever-," I choked on my words, swallowing hard as I tried to push down the sudden rush of emotion flooding through my chest.

Jimmy looked up at me as the coughing quickly turned into low sobs, his once confused face now softening into that of an understanding James Owen Sullivan look.

"You're right. We were both taken out of life too early, and you deserve to see them one final time," Jimmy agreed, placing his hand over mine.

His touch was not warm, but not entirely unpleasant. Having someone with me in the Afterlife who I knew when I was human was what had saved me. Without it, I would be floating around in the thick mist of lost souls, yearning for my loved ones and not believing I was dead.

I had died a mere seven months ago, at the age of 24. I don't recall all the details of my passing, but I knew it had something to do with a botched surgery that I had to get my appendix out. What should have been an easy procedure had been my downfall, and all thanks to a doctor who cared more about his tee off time than the woman lying on his operating table. He was in jail now, my loved ones had saw to that, but the hole I had left in their hearts hadn't been as easy to fix.

"Whit, you okay? You zoned out there for a second," Jimmy's drifting voice snapped me back to reality, and I stared at him, blinking with wide blue eyes.

It took me minutes to recall what we had been talking about, one of the many disadvantages of living in the Afterlife. Letting your mind wander could evaporate your memory within seconds, so one always had to be on their toes here.

"Do you want to go see them? Both of them?" he asked me kindly, trying not to say the wrong thing and rip my still heart from my chest.

"Yes," I breathed. "More than anything. I need to see them. I need to be sure."

"It's settled then. Come with me," Jimmy said, standing up.

For a split second, I could catch a glimpse of my childhood friend, the gangly one who wore a bright orange kimonos simply because he liked to be different. A wide, foolish, yet trademark Jimmy smirk spread across his lips as he held his hand out to me.

"We should probably get going before anyone notices and we get into shit."

I nodded at this, taking Jimmy's cold hand in my own. We floated over the unimportant scenery around us, knowing that it was our own imagination that had created it. The grass wasn't like grass on Earth, so bothering to walk was pointless. We skirted the edges of the place we called home and then descended past it, floating down through the clouds and onto Earth.

The trip was quick because Jimmy knew where he was going, but fear and apprehension swelled inside of me. I hadn't been to Earth since I had taken my last breath, and I feared that it had changed suddenly in the seven months that I had been gone.

Jimmy laughed at me when I scrunched up my noise at the smell of the air here, and I punched him lightly on the arm. Only after not being here did you notice how disgusting it really smelled. I immediately regretted polluting the air with my loud and obnoxious Hummer.

"We're almost there. Nervous?" Jimmy asked me, squeezing my arm gently.

I nodded, unable to speak past the lump that had formed deep in my throat. Jimmy soared through the clouds, me holding onto him, as dark rooftops flew by underneath us. Eventually, the landscape began to take on a familiar look, and I could spot the PCH. We were close, and now I was regretting it. I was afraid of the pain that would flood through me when I saw them, and the questions I had for them which they would probably never hear.

We swooped down, our feet, clothed in sandals, touching the alien ground. I tottered unsteadily for a few moments, until Jimmy righted me and led me onto the grass of my front yard. It was tidy and perfect, just the way I would have kept it had I been alive. My rosebushes looked underwatered, but at least they weren't dead.

The mailbox beside the red door still had my name on it, and I realized with a seizing heart that I wasn't ready for this. I had fooled myself that I had been ready, and now I had to face it. I might not get another chance.

"It's better if you see them first, before freaking out," Jimmy informed me, his body disappearing through the door.

I waited apprehensively, biting my lip. Suddenly, Jimmy's tattoeed arm appeared, his hand waving impatiently for me to follow him. I barked out a laugh and took a hold of his hand, instantly being yanked through the solid wood door.

Again, everything looked immaculate. The wood floors were polished and clean, nothing out of place. Jimmy smiled and adjusted his sleeveless t-shirt, his body now encased in his regular clothes. I realized with horror that both he and I were wearing the clothes that we had died in. My simple jean skirt and red checkered shirt made me feel rather young, although the wisdom I had obtained while being in the Afterlife could refute that.

"They're in the living room. Don't say a word to them, just watch and talk to me," Jimmy murmured, and walked into the living room.

Here, the room was a different story. Childrens' toys decorated the mantle and were scattered upon the rug. Zachary was sitting on the couch in a pair of pajama pants, while our four year old son played with a fire truck. He was making puttering sounds with the full, plump lips he had inherited from Zacky, and his bright green eyes were focused on running over a Bob the Builder plush.

"What are you doing, buddy?" Zacky asked with a laugh, his emerald eyes watching our son with happiness.

"Bob the Builder stinks!" Owen exclaimed, now picking up the truck and smashing Bob the Builder with it.

"Woah woah, Mr. Anger. Calm yourself," Zacky chuckled, plucking the toy away from our son and setting it on the table next to the couch.

"Momma give me!" our son brazenly pouted.

Zacky's face fell instantly, the very sight of it making my heart ache for him. Despite what Jimmy had said, I floated closer towards the two of them, watching the scene with apprehension.

"Unfortunately buddy, I'm not your mom," Zacky sighed, leaning back as Owen turned away and became fascinated with several pieces of lego. "But I sure frigging wish she was here."

Zacky closed his eyes and lay his head on the back of the couch. I took this as my time to inspect him. His eyes were red and puffy, probably from crying, and the bags under his eyes made his skin appear to be an ashen gray. He looked a lot leaner, like he had gotten sick and lost weight, and his chest shook with every breath.

"Jimmy..please tell me he's going to be okay," I whispered, my hand flying up to my mouth in horror.

"Whit, you know I can't tell you anything about anyone's final time. It's not up to me," Jimmy murmured.

"You don't understand, James! We have a fucking son that he needs to take care of!" I screamed, my voice nearing a screech as I turned to him.

My husband and son were blissfully unaware of our presence, Owen still playing while Zacky rested his eyes from where he sat. My own chest heaved with pain and displeasure, and I could feel the foreign pinpricks of tears in my eyes. I hadn't cried in what felt like forever.

"Much has changed since the last time," he said stoically.

"What does that mean?"

"It's been seven months, ten hours, and 16 minutes since your death, Whitney. Much has changed since the last time you can recall being here."

"It's not fair! They shouldn't have to suffer because I'm dead! I want them to be happy."

A sob tore from my lips and I pressed my hands furiously to my mouth, trying to quell the absolute anger and fear that my young family could be torn so viciously away from the world like I had been. My son was only four, and Zachary was young as well. They both needed to stay in this world.

"They'll be fine no matter what. Zachary refuses to move on romantically with anyone, and Owen is content with the small amount of memories he has with you," Jimmy shared with me.

I could understand why Jimmy said these things, but I didn't feel like they benefited me in any way. I was dead and forced to remain in the Afterlife, doing good deeds to help humans, and was unable to see my own family. This was all so much, and the old emotions now felt raw and new. But as much as it hurt, I just wanted to watch the two of them forever.

"Daddy?" Owen cooed.

I hadn't realized it, but he had grabbed onto his father's knees and was trying to hoist himself into his lap. Zacky's emerald eyes popped open in surprise, and he let out a loud laugh, tugging Owen onto his lap.

"We named him after you, Jim. Your first name would have been too painful for everyone, so we knew Owen was a good fit," I told him, my eyes still trained on my two favourite guys in the world.

"I know. I was watching from above."

"Why didn't you protect me that day on the operating table?" I asked, watching as Owen whispered something into Zacky's ear and he chuckled, ruffling his brown hair.

"I tried my best to spare your life, Whitney. I begged and pleaded with them because I had been watching over all of you since I passed and I knew Zack would grow fragile without you. As unfair as it sounds, they announced it was your time, and I could do nothing but watch as you died on the table. After that, they wouldn't let me watch over our friends as much anymore. I'm too attached," Jimmy quoted with a bitter laugh.

"I remember seeing you, Jimmy. Your blue eyes led me into the Afterlife. If they hadn't, I would have gotten lost," I whispered, ice cold tears streaming down my cheeks.

Zachary picked up his acoustic guitar and set it on his son's lap, explaining to him that guitar was an art form. His long, skilled fingers plucked at the strings, music flooding through the air and making Owen clap his hands delightedly.

"I wasn't going to let that happen to you, just like I won't let it happen to anyone else. Especially not Owen and Zack," Jimmy murmured, his voice so soft and sure.

"I don't want them to go before their time."

"Yes, but it's not up to us to determine who lives and who dies. We go on with the hand we're dealt, and we do the best with what we have. All will be fine, no matter what happens."

"Now buddy, it's going to take time to learn this," Zacky informed our son, who was concentrating like mad on the strings.

"I know," Owen chirped, brow furrowed.

"I'll get you a smaller guitar first, and then you can have this one when you get older. Momma would want you to have it."

"Momma?" Owen whispered, the very sound of his voice seeming to jump start my heart back to life.

I lived for him, and his voice did wonders on my long dormant body. Just the sound of him calling me 'Momma' was so refreshing.

"Yes, this was your mom's guitar. I taught her to play, and now I'll teach you," Zacky whispered, kissing his head.

A wide smile turned up the edges of Zacky's lips, his snake bites glistening in the morning sun. My heart started to beat for an all new reason as I stared at him. He had taken my breath away the very moment I had met him, although I was hesitant to date a famous rockstar. He was gorgeous and funny, and took my ribbing of his chubbiness rather well. But we got along, and soon after we started dating, we conceived Owen and got married. Zachary James Baker was the man for me, and it was a goddamn shame that I was taken from him so soon.

"We have to leave now," Jimmy spoke suddenly.

"Why?" I asked, looking over at him.

"Someone has noticed us missing, and if we stay for too long, we won't be able to make it back."

"Okay," I breathed, and walked towards my family.

Zacky was watching with that same smile on his face as Owen went to town on the guitar, playing a tune he thought was amazing. I bent down to look at him first, loving the way his eyes glowed at the discovery of music.

"I love you baby boy, don't forget that. Please," I whispered, my throat and eyes stinging with sadness.

I pressed a kiss on his forehead and then positioned myself on the couch beside Zacky, letting my head rest on his shoulder. Had I been alive, this was more than likely the position I would have been in. Zacky had made me happier then I had ever been when I was human, and I wished I had taken the time to thank him for that. Instead, I wiped away my tears and planted a kiss on the edge of his lips.

"I'll love you forever, Zachary. I'll watch you from above until you're ready to return to me, and we can be together again."

"Whitney," Zacky suddenly breathed, his eyes round and wide.

One of his hands went up to the place that I had kissed him, his fingertips lingering there like he was trying to catch on to something.

I forced a small smile on my face as I turned back to Jimmy, trying so hard not to be sad but failing miserably. Jimmy smiled back knowingly, opening his arms for an embrace. I sobbed hard, my face finding comfort in his chest. He was right. Much had changed since the last time I had been here, and it was painful to see.

"Let's go, Whitney. You'll be fine, and Zacky knows you're okay where you are."

With that said, Jimmy and I spiraled up to the Afterlife, still locked tightly in an embrace. It would hopefully be a long time before I was reunited with my family, and I was okay with that. For now, I would watch from above, trying to latch on to their strands of happiness and smile, knowing that they were okay.