A woman dies of a heart attack and watches her funeral from beyond, observing her husband's confusion with bills and her teenage son's grief. She floats through the house choosing not to comfort him, wanting him to grow stronger. Her atheist son, now 26 and a quantum physicist, eventually senses her presence and wishes her peace.
Chapters
This is a short story from my book called The Whiff of Tempest, and this is a story, a work of fiction, and resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental. It's called I Died Today. I died today. A number of people came to see me. I don't know them much. I died in my sleep. The doctor declared a massive heart attack. And left an hour earlier after pronouncing me dead and handing in the death certificate. I looked around. Most of my guests were wearing something white. It's a working day and some have driven miles directly from their work to pay respects to me. Some came in short skirts and revealing blouses. Some probably picked up a junior chicken from McDonald's or a Tim Hortons coffee and a bagel on their way. They had to. They would be back They would have to go back home and cook dinner before they could eat something. They would be hungry. Most of them are my husband's friends and colleagues. The service Ontario had been notified. I had donated a few organs and they would come to get the organs before the funeral. My husband is completely disoriented today. Today is a salary day and I would make— I would have made a number of payments on this day. Now he hasn't a clue how I did all that. He wanted to learn it so many times, but he was a slow learner. Learner, and I had lost patience. Now he would be delayed in making his payments and his credit rating may fall. He may even get a few collection calls. He's smiling a lot welcoming the guests, and then he's realizing he shouldn't be smiling because the faces of the guests were quite stoic. Some are even hugging him, and then he is beginning to cry. He doesn't know whether to cry or to be normal, smile and welcome guests, or what kind of an expression he should put on. I guess it happens to most of us. He's just flummoxed. The doctors tried hard but just left a while back. I could not be resuscitated. I glided over the strangers in my bedroom. I knew that. I knew I could glide. I'd seen an overdose of it in YouTube afterlife experiences. I look across. My body is draped in a big bedsheet. Thank God for that, as I'm wearing not such a decent nightdress. I glide across the room, my son's room. It's locked. I can knock, but I needn't. So I glide through it. He's sitting on the floor with his head resting on the bed and his shirt wet with tears running down his eyes and throat. His eyes are closed. My baby. He's crying for Mama. I feel tears spring my own eyes. I want to hug him, hold his hands. But I don't. Not because I don't want to scare him, but because I want him to become stronger without me. How I wish he had found a nice little girl who'd love him. But his I don't like girls attitude shooed off all girls in his vicinity. I hope he finds one now. I sit beside him and rest my head on his bed— on the bed. I feel a surprising calm. Surprisingly, his tears too dry up. He looks at the sky, his jaws protruding, his eyes stronger. My boy. Now I can leave him alone. I would have to anyway. This is a one-way ticket. I could never come back. Where would they take me? Heaven? Hell? Or back to earth? I felt all my freedom of living was now going to end. Now I'll be at the mercy of being analyzed, what good or bad I did during my lifetime. Maybe I'll meet God. I want to. I've quite a few things to ask Him. I didn't want to come back and face all the stupid things all over again. But I was so calm and peaceful sitting here beside my fast-maturing boy. Did I want to just sit here and whisper all my life? Or death? Can't I just do that? There was a furor outside. All formalities were over. They were taking my body away. My husband came to call my son. He nodded, I'm coming. Then my atheist, 26-year-old quantum physicist son looked directly at my direction and spoke. Ma, I know you are here. You know what? I prayed to your God for your last wish. I prayed that you don't have to be born again. This is a work of fiction. Resemblance for anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.
