When people die where do they go? In the Bible it says you go to either Heaven or Hell. In reality you don't really go anywhere. 9:32 pm, March 18th, 2014 that was my time. I was expecting a bright white light and a helping hand to take me to safety. What really happened is that I ended up staying on earth to watch over the people I loved. I heard my mother crying for the first time, screaming "NO" at the top of her lungs when they put that white sheet over my lifeless body. I watched as my father tried to be strong, only to see him break down crying every night. I was forced to watch my friends struggle every time someone mentioned my name. It was pure torture.
People say it's difficult for the people that lost their loved one but what about the one that was lost? We are forced to watch as the people we know and love are in pain. Forced to watch as others have to pick themselves up and go on with their lives, without us, and the worst part is you can't look away. It's like a scene in that you love in a book. You know you have to look away and go to the next page but you can't bring yourself to do it. My life was that scene in that book and I couldn't look away. I was forced to watch them. I couldn't talk to tell them I was alright. I couldn't touch them to let them know that I was safe or that things would get better. I watched them go through their everyday lives.
I watch one person in particular. I loved her more than anyone else. I watched her as she got the phone call and was told that I was gone and wasn't coming back. I sat on her bed and watched as she cried for hours on end. I was there to see her staring at her phone background, a picture of the two of us when we went to Tennessee with our families. I wanted to tell her that everything would be okay, that she'd be okay, that I was okay. I never could. All I could do was sit and watch as she sobbed her heart out.
I remember the day like it was yesterday. It had been a month since I had left. She was sitting in her room looking at old photo albums of us when we were younger. She smiled and laughed when she saw certain pictures of us but mostly she cried. That's when there was a knock on the door. She put down the photo album and pushed herself off the bed and headed to open the door. It was a police officer and he had a letter in his hand. He told her they had found it in the wreckage of my car. I had written it. She took it out of his hands and thanked him. She twirled the note in her figures as she walked back up to her room. She sat on her bed and looked at it for what seemed like hours before taking a deep breath and picking it up. She smiled and wept as she read it. That was the day that she picked herself up and started to get her life back to normal. I watched with a smile on my face as she got married, had kids, and started a new life, without me.
One day she was sitting on the bed with her youngest son bed reading him a bedtime story when he asked her where his name came from. She smiled and looked him in the eyes before saying.
"Your name comes from one of the best friends I've ever had. He's not here anymore but he will always be my best friend. We went through everything together. He meant a lot to me and he always will. He was caring and was always there for me no matter what I did or said. He never left my side. When we were in high school we had our whole future planned out. We were going to get married and have kids, just like you. But a simple accident took that all away. When you were a baby you would always cry when someone else held you. That’s why you’re named after him. Because you never wanted to leave my side and I didn’t want you to." I smiled and looked at the two of them. I placed my hand on her shoulder. She looked back towards where I was standing. She smiled as if she saw me then turned back and started reading to her son again.