Main image
19th December
posted by amber

The Afterlife

It’s not at all what I expected. It’s indescribable. I’ve thought about it, perhaps for decades, perhaps for months, time has little meaning here.

The best simile I can come up with is that after death, some tiny shred of our consciousness becomes like a fallen leaf and joins a matrix of other leaves in a compost of unusual awareness that has no meaning that I can figure out. At first I was able to observe the world of living things almost as clearly as I did when I was alive, although I knew I had no eyes to see, no ears to hear, and so forth. Now I understand that I was experiencing a pattern of perceiving which no longer had a basis in any physical form on my part.

The dead perceive life through some ability innate in consciousness itself, and it didn’t take long for me to stop imposing my habits on that sense. The world is beautiful, but the way I ‘see’ trees and birds and moving water and living people is beyond the ken of those still on the other side.

We fallen leaves recognize each other, but dimly. There is no communication, nor any need for it after we learn to be still and receptive, after we forget our frantic, rushing, distracted ways. Not all the others in this mat of life sparks are (or were) human, although like seems to attract like, and relationships of the fleshly realm draw us together even here. After I settled into my new state, I realized that my dying conviction that family members awaited me on the other side had been valid. I rested in quiet proximity to my parents and siblings and my husband who had preceded me.

We are highly attuned to beings about to die. I have observed the death of trees, of flies, of fish, of everything on earth that dies. When someone or something is nearing the end of that phase of existence, they glow. Some deaths seem the result of illness or gradual injury, and the glow comes along slowly, but sudden deaths are also presaged, with a blinding glow drawing our attention to observe the final moment.

I am observing such a glow now, incredibly bright, increasing now to a searchlight glare searing through my being. Suddenly extinguished, I sense it flying directly to me.

Oh God, it is my daughter.
The Story 365 project is a year-long marathon of short story writing, with a new story for every day of the year and posted on this website from May 1, 2011 – April 30, 2012. Stories must be a minimum of 200 words. Please help me by adding first line or topic suggestions in the Comment section of any story. If you’d like me to use your name in a story, I’d be happy to do that.

1 Comment

  1. Christina LaPeare

    I would like to know when you are having another workshop?

Leave a Reply