Describe a phase in life that was difficult to say goodbye to.
I looked up from my laptop and locked eyes with someone I thought I would never see again. I had been reading his obituary before I looked up, after all. He sat there, infuriatingly patient as only the dead could.
“Take a picture. It’ll last long.” He said with a crooked smile.
I rubbed my eyes, but still he sat in front of me, occupying the chair that was meant to be filled by the rest of our living morning friends.
“You’re not here.” I said softly. “You put a bag over your head and filled it with helium, suffocating your life and robbing the world of your talents.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “No one paid attention to my talents. No one cared.”
I wrapped my hand around my coffee cup. Feeling the warmth radiate in my hand grounded me. At least I was still alive, maybe losing my mind, but I was alive. “You’re such a fucking lair. I cared. Melissa and John cared. Countless others do too.”
He leaned back in his chair; the light shining off his freshly shaved head. I’m not sure if ghosts take the look they have when they die or what they are most comfortable with.
“I couldn’t live like that anymore.” He said after I went back to typing.
My fingers ran across the keyboard a few more times before I responded with a simple, that’s nice. What did he expect me to say? He left us here on this realm. To deal with the heartache and pain of the hole he would leave in our souls. He was so young, life was just starting for him and he robbed himself, his family and friends of what might have been.
I finally looked up from my laptop and he was still there. Elbows resting on his knees, his chin in his hands. “Why are you here?”
He reached across the table as if he would take my hand. “I just wanted you to know I was at peace.”
I wanted to desperately reach out, to touch him, but I was scared. Scared my hand would go straight through him or that mind would turn cold. Would my touch let him see into my soul and know the pain that he had left me with? If he was at peace with his decision, then I should be too.
I took a drink and smiled. No one knows the monsters you fight within yourself. If he felt this was the only way to quiet them, then I must have faith he did it for the right reasons. I never saw him as a weak person before. Strong and dedicated to his craft. Determined to fight for what he wanted.
I tapped the table near his hand. My hesitation hurt him. But he hurt me. “Did you find all the answers you were looking for?”
His brown eyes lit up. “You can’t imagine all that there is. The answers are truly in the stars.”
I went back to writing. I didn’t want to ask him anything else. One could only pretend to have a conversation with the dead before others start to wonder if you skipped your meds. I swore I heard him tap the table, but when I looked up, he was gone.
