Masterpiece

Most people think about what “life” is going to be like after they pass away. Is there really a Heaven and Hell? Did the Egyptians have the right idea? Do we go into a state of purgatory, where all we can do is think? Well, it isn’t in my authority to answer those questions. You’ll have to wait and see. What I am here to tell you about, however, is what happens when you actually die. Have you ever thought about that?

I’m not talking about having a funeral service fit for a queen, the most elaborate head stone, or the largest ocean of tears cried for you. I’m talking about the moment when you go from life to death in one split second. It’s the moment where you cross over into a world much different than the one you’ve been used to living. Fret not, child- although I can’t make your transformation easier, I can assure you one thing: everyone goes out with a bang.

My own story still gives me chills to this day…that is, if I could actually feel physical chills anymore. I can’t remember much of my human life; once you’ve been gone for a long time, you forget a lot of your human past. I’d be surprised if I could remember my mother’s birthday or the name of the office where my father worked. I do, however, remember how I died like it was just yesterday.

You see, I lived in a very wooded area, out in a state called Colorado...or was it Vermont? See, I told you I couldn’t remember much. Anyway, it was a very wooded area, on a very snowy evening. My friends and I did not have school the entire week and thought it best to celebrate by sledding down the hill. Roads on hills weren’t unheard of in our area. My parents disapproved of my sledding adventure so late in the night, but they let me go out anyway. What was the worst that could happen?

I took my sled, flew down the hill, and felt as free as a bird. I was too blinded by my own glee to notice the screams of my friends as I launched off of my sled and into the road, where a car going at least forty-five miles per hour slammed into me.

And it was like the fourth of July.

The moment the car hit me, I heard a symphony play. And as I flew through the cold, barren sky, I looked up and saw billions of little stars shining. I could hear the firecrackers exploding. I could hear the cheers and the music, and smell the gunpowder. I landed in the ocean, slowly sinking down to the bottom, where I was surrounded by gorgeous tropical fish. I closed my eyes just as a group of mermaids brought me to the surface. When I opened them, I was lying in a field. The warmth of the sun was healing my battered body, and I reached my arms up as high as I possibly could. I held the sun as if we were equals. I opened my eyes, looked into the rays, and I was gone.

My friends saw me get hit by a car, fly about sixty feet away from the scene of the impact, and land in a snowbank where I died from internal bleeding and blunt force trauma.

But me? I saw a masterpiece.

I heard beautiful harmonies

I smelled a familiar, comforting scent.

I tasted what I thought Heaven tasted like.

I felt happier than I had ever been in life...

...in death.

I felt like a brand new Michelangelo, painting my life and my journey across the skies of the spiritual boundary lines.