Reclaiming Her Time

She sat at the table watching everyone eating their breakfast and getting ready to tackle their day. They all had the long faces of those who have emerged from a hard season. Their chatter was light, with a forced merriment of those trying to get past the difficulties they had just experienced. She asked, ‘Why is everyone so glum?” Try as she might, she could not grab their attention. She shouted, she whispered, she stood up and waved her hands. For all her gesticulating and yelling, the results were the same. No recognition at all from anyone. No familiar glance, no quizzical looks inquiring about her shouts and gestures. No curiosity at all. The only curiosity sitting at the table sat with her.  All at once she felt a strange sensation throughout her body. It was a feeling largely unfamiliar to her. She was not seen. There was no response to her because she was invisible to them.

Memories started flooding through all at once. The hospital room, the operating table, the hushed whispers from the doctors and the nurses. Then the words she had forgotten came rushing back like a freight train. “Time to call it: Time of death 2:51pm”. How had she forgotten this? Seems like a critical moment in one’s life. Or rather, death. If she was deceased, how was she still here? Why was she here wasting time in a void? Nobody can see her, nobody can hear her. Was this what happened after one died? What was she doing here? Who was she if she was…nobody? She did not feel like she was absent of herself. She felt very much like she was present.

As quickly as the memories hit, she was now dabbling with a new emotion: confusion. What happens here? Was she supposed to do something here before she moves on to the next level? Is there another level? She had a million questions and had no one to ask them. Confusion gave way to sorrow; sorrow settled into loneliness. She did not want to exist this way. She had lots of things she wanted to do, and now, even though she could probably do them all, she realized she would probably have to do them alone. What kind of world existed out there for someone out there who was going to be largely unseen? She loved experiencing new things, she just wasn’t sure she would enjoy them as much if there were no one to tell her stories too.

When she was alive (still such a surreal thought for her), she had moments when she wondered what escape looked life. She didn’t really think she wanted to die, she was just so lost and felt like she was living in an abyss so deep she wasn’t sure she would make it back out. The perfect irony of all this was that before she had died, she thought she liked being a solo traveler. It was how she existed now it seemed. Turns out, she liked it much less than she thought. She realized she wanted company. Someone to talk to, to listen and laugh with, all the things she had convinced herself she didn’t need. She watched everyone get up and gather their things as they headed out the door. As they made their way past her, the slight breeze they left in their wake overwhelmed her. The mingled smells of their colognes and perfumes lingered in the air as the door closed behind them. Her kids were no longer kids, and they were all heading out in different directions, literally and figuratively. She assessed herself as they left and wondered if she was a good mother. What was the sign one looks for to decide that? She knew looking at their faces that they missed her, despite doing their best to get through their days. The long-term effects of her absence and of her talents as a mother have yet to be decided. She knew she was loved, and she knew her children were good and kind, albeit ornery as all young adults can be. How she loved them! The sorrow that she had felt earlier returned. She longed to talk with them, to tell them all the parts she had kept quiet. The things she did not verbalize to them; she longed to do so now. Did they really know how much she loved them? Did they sense her presence in the room, just a little? Would there be room for her in their memories or would she become invisible to them there? The questions she had were unceasing! So many things left undecided. If she had known that she would leave them this way, she would have done things differently. Perhaps there was a lesson here. There is only one life to live, and you had to say the things you wanted to say when you had the opportunities to do it. Sometimes the opportunities never returned. She was not done here yet. She wanted to reclaim her time, to seize the moments she had let pass her by. She wanted another chance to experience life. She wondered where she would start over. Which detour would she take differently? Being dead sure did make a person think, she said to herself with a chuckle. As she sat there pondering all the questions she was left with, she heard a voice saying, “Come now. Its time to go”. ‘Go where?” she asked the disembodied voice. “That is a question without an answer. You have to follow me, and you shall see when you arrive. This moment was just a chance to say goodbye and make peace with what you are leaving behind. Trust me, everyone has the same questions when they get their turn. Everyone is afraid to leave behind the old life. They are afraid they will be forgotten. The only certainty I can offer is this: if you lived a good life, you will be remembered. For those left behind the memories are bittersweet. They remember fondly the person who left, but very often the thoughts are tempered with pain. To love much, is to hold on tighter. Letting go is always the hard part. That goes for the ones left behind and the ones who are leaving. Such is the nature of life. Time will soften the pain but will never lessen it. Let’s go now. All your other questions will go away once we get to the destination.” The only choice she had now was to swallow the huge lump in her throat and follow to see what awaits her. One last wistful glance behind her and she was gone.