What Happens When You Die?

I could feel it.

Deep inside me.

breaking.

Shattering into pieces.

I could feel myself losing it.

Losing my grip on reality.

And it hurt.

Ray was there.

He rarely, if ever, left.

He watched me closely.

His eyes never leaving me.

I don’t know how long it’s been.

I don’t trust my mind anymore.

It could have been hours, days, weeks, for all I know.

And the scary part was whenever I looked into the mirror I could see--actually see-- myself falling deeper into the pitch black abyss inside of me.

I felt like howling out in pain.

Vocalizing the agony I felt.

But it was like my vocal cords no longer responded to my commands.

I was useless.

Just laying there.

Not alive nor dead.

Just existing.

My organs seemed to be working.

My lungs still took in air.

But it felt like my heart had went cold within my chest.

Like it died but the rest of my body continued on without it.

While I laid there surrounded by the darkness that the night had covered me in, I thought.

I forced myself to remember.

Remember anything.

Remember everything.

Remember him.

Because the pain that flowed through me, searing my mind and body, when I remembered; made me feel…human.

Ray went to sleep in the guest room while I stayed up and thought.

Instead of the usual questions I try in vain to answer myself, I thought of the last time I saw him alive. The last time I heard his voice.

“You’re a liar.”

He told me,

“You don’t love me.”

But that wasn’t true.

I did love him.

I do love him.

I wish I could have told him that.

I wish he would have listened to me.

But he didn’t.

And now all I have left is my questions.

I wonder what happens when you die.