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When Love and Death Embrace: Chapter 1When Love and Death Embrace: Chapter One
When you're a little kid, you often visualize what happens after death. You try to imagine what heaven looks like, and you twist it to be exactly what you want. At least I did. In my afterlife I always imagined it would be filled with paintings and lit up in bright colors. With rides that never stopped unless you wanted them too. But you see that's just the thing about imagination, it's not always true. No, not at all.
The hours following my death were a hurricane of emotions. To sit there and watch your parents mourn the death, your death and not being able to do a thing about it. You can scream, you can throw things, you can do anything, but they'll never know. Because they sit there, with that same look upon their face, because all you are is a ghost. It's the most helpless feeling in the world, and if it wasn't' for the fact that I was already dead, that night would have killed me.
There are times when you often find yourself question
On preparing to never let goWalking slowly down the hall, arms filled with the day's mail, we spoke of morbid things.
She wants to be reduced to ash and I want to know if I can keep her on my mantle.
She looks at me sideways with a curious face and forgets her footsteps.
It's a little bit morbid, she tells me, deciding it's time to continue shuffling along,
but I think the way I'm trying to picture her perfect urn is probably worse.
There's nothing that I can think of that suits her, though,
and I wonder if I even know her.
Do I scatter you somewhere? You can't visit scatter.
(I think good daughters plant guilt in the carpet pile to trip upon.)
But she doesn't trip, instead she ruminates on how appalling it'd be to divide her in fourths:
she laughs as she's divvying up her body parts for our mantles.
I tell her we'll set up a custody schedule, but only between my closest sister and me;
we're the ones that take care of her. But in reality, I'm not planning on sharing.
She tells me she wants to be in the n
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