Between Living and Here

1

I lifted my eyes to observe my surroundings and tried to come to a realization. But all I could make out was a vast blackness that stretched in every direction. I had lost my sense of perspective. Still groggy from what seemed to have been a long sleep, my legs layed limp below me and my mind was somewhat dazed. I sat on some sort of cushioned floor and tried to solve the puzzle before me, I had no idea where I was. I sat there for what seemed like enternity.2

There were infinite questions to ask, but none with an answer. I couldn’t remember how I got there and I’ll probably never know, but for as long as I stayed, I never gave up on wanting to understand. I was aware of certain things. Life, family, birth, death, and love were all things I understood and remembered from a live I thought I once lived. But it was my existence, my surroundings, and reasoning, that I couldn’t grasp. I didn’t know how long I’d been alive, or even if I was. I was a book with empty pages, infite pages of horrifying white. And trying to read it was impossible because there was nothing there. I had left reality behind me for good, and was entering a panic-stricken nonsensical world. That was just the beginning.3

Time passed, though I did not know how much. It wasn’t long before I began hearing faceless voices. There was no embodiment to them, and just as I began figuring them out they were gone. They were soothing. They assured me that I would be okay. I did not know why they were so worried, but it made me worry. I still could not move, I was just as limp as I first was. Was that something to worry about? No. My body was useless there. I suppose it was nothing to worry about, since it would have been no good. But the voices were still there. Sometimes they sobbed. They tried to hide it, but I could still hear their stifled cries. It was a sad place. I was disturbed and no bodiless voice could soothe me. I wanted to get out and eventually I did. But now I realize that I wanted more. I wanted to go back to the life I had. I didn’t remember it but I had a sense. It was there. There was love, there was happiness, and most of all there was human interaction. I would never again know a place that wouldn’t make me lonely. Betwee there and here the only difference is that now I know. I know what I lost upon entering that solemn existence.4

Two beautiful children and a beautiful home. The everlasting love for my dead husband. Supportive friends, and a new love interest. A job at a firm. A lifestyle. Talent, empathy, and direction. I had all of this, but then it was gone. I know that now, and it is almost worse than when I didn’t. But at least now I have the memory. I dwell on it, I feed off of it. The people, the love, the experience, I embrace it all. But that moment, that space of time in the blackness, that was the in between. They called it my fighting to live. But truly it was an in between. I was already gone. Through the blackness of my coma, I knew one thing. And that was that I would never go back.5

Some people think that they will live again after they pass. Some people do. But I never felt closer to living than when I was laying in the darkness, hearing those voices. It was the last time I would ever hear them truthfully. Though I am united, in a sense, to those close to me that have passed, nothing here is real. Nothing is truly real. I am writing God a letter. It says that I am willing to give up my afterlife to live once more. I don’t think he’ll accept, because nobody else here has spoken of such things. I don’t even know that he recieves letters. But in due time I will know. I will know if I will be a stranger, living on the earth, walking up to my children again and introducing myself as another human being. I will ask them what happened to me. What happened to their mother that brought her from there lives. Maybe if I can’t find out God will tell me. Because I can’t stand not knowing anymore. I just want to know the one moment, the moment I will forever regret, that brought me here. Heaven is less than life.6