When I awoke, I could breath like nothing had happened. I opened my eyes, and saw the ambulance and police cars at the scene of the accident. There were several firefighters and two tow trucks with my car and the other vehicle that hit me loaded onto the backs of them. I sat up and looked around. I felt as though nothing had happened at all.
I looked down and my breath caught in my throat. My battered and bloody body lay on the pavement. My eyes were still open. There was so much blood, I barely recognized myself. Two paramedics brought a stretcher to my lifeless body and loaded me upon it. They covered my body with a blue sheet. What was happening? I screamed at them to stop!
I'M NOT DEAD! I'M RIGHT HERE! CAN'T YOU SEE?
"They can't hear you," a voice from behind me said.
I turned to face its owner, and saw my grandmother standing there.
"How is this possible?" I sobbed. "You've been dead for 10 years, Grandma. What is happening to me?"
The concern in her eyes was evident. "You've died David. There's no other way to say it. When the other car hit you, your head slammed into the steering wheel so hard that it caused a hemorrhage in your brain. You died shortly after. Before the paramedics could even get here."
She gave me a moment to let this sink in. I turned and watched as the paramedics loaded my body into the back of the ambulance. Another ambulance sat nearby with the driver of the other car sitting in the back door, holding a cold compress to his head.
"What about him?" I asked my Grandma.
"He's fine. The airbag in his car saved his life. He was talking on his cell phone and didn't see the red light until it was too late. He's still in shock about what happened, but he will be fine."
"This isn't real. If I'm dead, how am I standing here talking to you? This must be a dream," I tried to rationalize the situation. There HAD to be an explanation.
"No, David. I'm so sorry." We watched as they finished clearing the accident. The emergency vehicles drove away with their lights off as if nothing had happened. In a few moments, everything was back to normal. Cars drove by and went on their way.
"David, your mother is about to get the news. The police are trying to get her contact information now." My grandmother seemed much to cavalier about this situation.
"I want to be there. I have to be there for her." I was starting to sob again.
"David, you might not want to see that. It is going to be devastating for her, and for you if you watch. There's nothing you can do for her," she explained.
"NO! I have to be there!" I yelled.
"Then close your eyes and imagine it, it's that easy. You will be where you want to be."
I closed my eyes, not sure how this was going to take me to my mother. But when I opened them, I was standing in the living room of my home. My mom and dad were there, putting up decorations and setting the table for the party that was going to take place that night. A celebration. They have no idea.
The doorbell rang, and I stood in the entry hallway as my mother came to answer it. My grandmother stood behind me and held my shoulders in her hand to comfort me during what I was about to witness.
Mom walked to the front door and opened it, not expecting a visitor who would ring the doorbell. Chris and his family knew to just walk right in, especially on this night.
"Mary Carmichael?" The officer at the door asked. Her face changed from one of cheer to one of concern.
"Yes, I'm Mary Carmichael. Is there a problem officer?"
"Mrs. Carmichael, is your son's name David Carmichael?" The officer asked. I could see from the look on his face that he had done this too many times. He wasn't at all at ease with the news he bore. He mustered every bit of empathy in his being for what he was about to say.
My mother nodded her acknowledgment at the sound of my name. Disbelief was already setting in. My dad had come down from his chair and stood behind my mother. "What's going on here?" he asked.
"Ma'am, there's been an accident. David's car was hit crossing an intersection, and I'm sorry to tell you that he died at the scene."
Had it not been for my father standing behind her, my mother would have collapsed right to the floor. My father held her in his arms as she cried out. Tears streamed from my father's eyes and my mother pounded her fists into his chest. Her screams were incoherent as the news sunk in about my death. I broke my grandmother's grasp on my shoulders and stepped up to my parents. I tried to hug them, but they couldn't feel my arms around them. It was as if I wasn't even there.
The officer stood silently at the door. His job was nearly done, and now he needed only to inform the family which hospital my body was taken to so that they could identify me and begin making arrangements.
Across the street, Chris' mother stepped onto her front porch and saw the police car in the street. She heard the screams of my mother, and knew something terrible had happened. She called into her house for Steven, Chris' father, to come quickly. Together, they ran across the street to my house and joined my mother and father in the doorway.
My mom screamed out, "HE'S DEAD! MY LITTLE BOY IS DEAD!" More sobs, and she was incoherent again. Chris' parents held each other and his mother sobbed gently into her husband's chest. The policeman explained to Steven what happened, and told them where my body was being taken and that someone needed to go there and identify me. Steven thanked the officer and he offered his condolences once again and then gratefully made his way to his patrol car and drove away.
Unable to comfort my parents or myself, I stepped outside the house and onto the front lawn. Nobody could hear my sobs. My tears fell, but disappeared before they hit the ground. No trace of me was really here. I looked up and watched in horror as another car turned onto our street and turned into the driveway across from our house. Chris.
He got out of his car, whistling some tune. He was in such a good mood. This was such a happy day for him. My heart broke into a million pieces as I came to the realization that he was about to be notified of my death as well.
He looked around and saw our parents in my doorway. His smile disappeared as he realized something was wrong. He ran to our house and I tried in vain to hold him as his mother gave him the news. He fell to his knees and bawled out in agony. My presence was no comfort to him or anyone else, and that hurt me more than anything right now.
My grandmother was behind me again and placed her hands on my shoulders to pull me away from Chris. His father scooped him up and carried him into our house with my family. Everyone sat in the family room crying and holding each other surrounded by the decorations for our party.
Grandma and I watched from the doorway from the kitchen into the family room.
"Why am I still here?" I asked her, not turning my head from the scene in front of me. I always believed that when you die, you stand before God to be judged and then sent either to heaven, or hell. I was only slightly concerned about my eternal fate at this point, still completely immersed in the pain of my family and my lover.
She drew a deep breath and explained, "You're not ready to go yet. When you're ready, I'll take you to what the living call 'heaven', although it's not at all what you expect. It is merely a place for us to be when we aren't here with them. There's no hurry. We literally have all the time in the world."
"Will I be judged by God? Am I going to hell?" I asked. I turned to look at my grandmother expectantly, waiting for her answer.
"No, David. There is no god as we always believed when we were alive. The afterlife is nothing like what you expect." She could see I was having trouble absorbing this information.
"So this is it? For the rest of eternity I have to watch my family and friends go about their lives until they join me?" It was a lonely prospect, and not one that I looked forward to.
"Come, David. Let us leave them to their grief for a while and I will try to explain things to you."
With one final glance, we closed our eyes and left them.
When I opened my eyes again, we were sitting on a park bench. There were people walking through the park, going about their lives. It was an eerie feeling to be merely a spectator of life. My grandmother began to explain to me what I should expect from now on.
"David, you have the option of being here with the living. When I first crossed over, I wanted to spend every moment with your mother and your grandfather. I thought I could bring them comfort somehow. While that isn't entirely wrong, I soon learned that it was of little use to them, and only hurt me to watch them. If and when you decide that you wish to leave them, you can go to the other place. Time does not exist there, so it is much easier for an eternal soul. While you can't get sick or hurt physically now, you can still hurt emotionally and mentally. Trying to stay here too long will make you go insane, as your mind will never rest. Time will drag on forever and ever here. That's why you must eventually go to the other place. You can always come back here to visit them whenever you want, but you'll want to go away sometime to let your spirit rest, if you will."
I tried to absorb everything she was telling me, but one thing caught my attention. "Grandma, you said it wasn't entirely wrong that we could bring them comfort? What does that mean? What can I do?"
She took a breath and put her hand over mine on the park bench. "David, you have a very difficult choice to make. When you pass over, you are able to connect with one living person for the rest of eternity. After they die, you can meet them again, but until then you can only connect with them on a spiritual level, and only in their dreams can you communicate with them. They won't see or hear you in their waking thoughts, and while they may possibly sense your presence, there is no way to communicate while they are awake. Choose this person carefully, because you only get one person for all eternity."
I knew without hesitation who it would be. Mom and Dad had each other to comfort and watch over them. Chris would need me. I would never leave his side.
"How do I make this connection?" I asked.
"When the person goes to sleep, you will enter their dreams. It is the only time they are perceptive enough to connect with you. All you have to do is lay your hand on their head, and touch their soul. After you connect with them, you will know their mind and have the ability to hear their thoughts. So be sure you choose the right person. Be prepared for what goes through the mind of someone in mourning. Their grief will be nearly unbearable. There will be moments of anger, fear, joy. All these emotions will be difficult for you to deal with if you're not careful. Once you make the connection, you can never 'turn it off.'"
I sat there and thought for a while, not speaking.
"I'll leave you alone for now. When you need me again, just think it, and I'll be here," she told me with compassion in her eyes. I blinked and she was gone. I sat there for a moment watching the people in the park.
In another blink, I was also gone.