I died day before yesterday. Uh huh, not to worry! Or fear (I am friendly)! I am absolutely fine! Great, in fact. Excited. After all, I am a really young Ghost. N-no, I am not an adolescent or even a young adult. When I was alive, I was actually a 70 year old half-senile old lady. But as a Ghost, I am only two days old. And I am still hung in the limbo, awaiting my turn to watch the mysteries unfold (whatever they might be). However, what I am really bothered about, is what I have left behind.
When I am not making friends with the other Ghosts my age, I sometimes go down to Earth to float lazily above the building that I once called home (as I can only do this for a few more days), but what I see down there, worries me. As I hover over my house like an invisible spirit, I watch my grandson cry himself off to sleep on an empty stomach. I watch my grand-daughter getting consumed with the guilt of not spending more time with me while I was alive. I watch my daughters looking lost and stricken, trying to blink back tears and put on brave faces. I watch my daughter-in-law, tired and exhausted, valiantly following the rites and customs to the letter. I watch my son, stiff with shock, as if still not sure that his mother is no more. I watch my sons-in-law, managing the funeral and handling the guests. I watch my old husband, helpless and broken, trying to get in a few words as his children and grandchildren hustle about, taking charge.
My little family has surrounded itself with friends and relatives. They offer condolences, advice and keep my children distracted. But my family still mourns. They feel like nothing would ever be the same again. They still feel the pain of watching me suffer. They keep on thinking if they could have done something more. If they could have possibly helped in any other manner. Such fools! I watch them suffer and think to myself, 'Have I taught them nothing?'.
I wish I could go back one last time to shake them by their shoulders and shout at them to get a grip on themselves. That I could show them how beautiful life is. That I could let them know that I am at peace. That all they need to do is love, live, dream and believe. That nothing is their fault. That the dead never truly leave them. That we are all One.
But I cannot. One of life's greatest irony is that we understand Life, only after it ends. However, I am not completely useless. There is something that I can still do. There has to be some advantage of being a Ghost, right! I smile mischievously. I use my Ghostly powers to increase my speed befitting a youngling, and blow the still air along with me. And as the wind rushes to do my bidding, I direct it to my grand-daughter's book-shelf that shakes and throws out her favourite book to land at her feet. I giggle as she jumps and looks around. I tweak my Ghost-finger to waft the wind again, fluttering the pages of the book to find the right one. I smile, satisfied when my grand-daughter picks it up, knowing she would find what I want her to read. That done, my duties as a young ghost ends, and I gear up in anticipation of what lies ahead.
Like Dumbledore once said to Harry, "After all, to the well-organised mind, death is but the next great adventure."
