Work Text:
If you blink you might miss it.
No. . . That's not quite right.
The end comes while you blink.
Yeah that's it.
When you shift your focus for too long and stop paying attention.
When you hear the crash
You know how beautiful all of those poems and stories about death are. Some are so tragically beautiful you cry before you can't? Those were all written by living people. Those tales of the after life and goodbyes were all from living people. Those promises and hopes and dreams are all written by people who are. not. dead.
And I have no idea where I am.
My mother had always said that you needed to find, early in life, something in life to define you. Something to help you strive and push and grow. Something to help you feel and learn to understand. Something to help you make an impact on this world. To focus and hone your skills and energy to the point where it could be used constructively and that it all starts in your formative years.
Well. . .
I did it Mom.
Are you proud?
You know somebody important once said that if you can make a positive impact on someone, you have done good with your life.
Did I do good?
All I am, is thought peering off of a cliff anymore.
The colors are bright here.
I am not here.
It's visually stunning.
I don't see.
It's a pit of black.
I don't not see.
Is this purgatory?
But I think and I feel.
I conjure the fantasies that my Jewish family instilled upon me of bounty and hope. Of forgiveness and peace. Of a heaven that was plentiful and fantastic in every way. Of eternity. I'm NOT. THERE.
Is there even an afterlife?
Am I alive in a coma or something?
What about my family?
What about my parents who found their only child dead on FATHERS DAY?
The dripping of water.
The rushing of cars.
The noise of living.
It all goes on whether I'm there or not.
I mean I can't see it but it has no reason not to.
I lived for 27 years.
That's 236520 hours.
14191200 minutes.
Going about it logically, that's 851472000 seconds. Give or take.
That's how long I was breathing. How long raw, unfocused, impure energy was expressed as matter. How long that matter got to think and feel. How many relations, how much love and happiness. How much of the world and how much of an impact that matter got to make. How much of an impact did my energy make?
I always liked Star Trek better than Star Wars. I mean, I know that's kind of biased because I was in it, but I've ALWAYS liked star trek. I don't think I really fully understood it as a kid. When I turned about 13, I realized something. The premise of Star Trek is of a world where humanity managed to look past its differences. Where it decided that war wasn't worth the cost. Where it took the unfocused human drive to fight, and the basic instincts that drive so many people and focused it all upwards into the stars. It's a world where aliens and societies of all kinds decided to figure out ways to coexist.
The premise was never to be a hero. It was never to save the princess or to stop a dark overlord, even though that's what sometimes happened. It was to explore. To create. To protect. To see how much better they could make life by seeing what they could discover. It didn't happen long ago, it gave hope for the future. It gave us a guideline. A reason not to fight.
I guess I'm rather proud that I got to be a part of that.
The light is really bright.
I don't think the light was there before
It hurts. Feeling. It's rather painful.
My heart is breaking a thousand times for my Mom and my Dad.
They never got to see their son grow up and change the world like he meant to. They never got grandchildren. Never got to teach them to skate or embarrass me in front of my fiance.
I've judged my life in relation to my effect on others.
My eyes feel weird.
Isn't that all that life means though?
You are energy to spend.
I don't have eyes.
Matter is energy, energy is what gets things done.
I open my 'eyes' and everything is bright. I curl my fingers and toes and everything is fluffy.
I don't know where I am, but I smile with lips I don't think I should have.
Mom I'm really really sorry. Dad, it's going to be okay. I'm sorry I didn't get to say goodbye. You'll never have grandchildren, and for that I deeply regret. But, I don't think you should. I don't think you should regret my death. I don't think you should imagine me as anymore than I was. Don't imagine me as a star or a hero riding on the wings of a Valkyrie or something. I think you should move on. I think you should be happy. You should use the rest of your years for what you want, for helping and being happy. Think of me when you need me, but don't think that I need you to dwell on me.
I think I'm finally where I'm supposed to be.
And you shouldn't dwell on me in whatever afterlife I'm in because I believe you'll have plenty of time to see for yourself when you get here.