Liebling

"It's not supposed to feel like this," you say to yourself. No one hears you.

There are people around you, people who loved you and cared for you.

Now they're mourning for you.

The sun is shining, the trees are swaying gently, the wind is soft and forgiving and you find it strange that you can actually feel any of it. But you can, and it's... comforting.

No one can see you. But you hope they can feel your prescence, hope they understand that even though it's your body that's lying in that dark wooden chest and even though you no longer have a heart or lungs to breathe in the fresh air of early spring that is surrounding all of you, they'll sense that you're still there.

"I'm dead." you say to yourself and wonder what you're supposed to do now. Are you a ghost? Are you destined to walk around on earth without beeing seen, without living, aimlessly searching for nothing?

He's not crying. You didn't expect him to.

You're standing by a big oak a few yards from where everyone has gathered around your no longer living body, and you watch them with a sad expression on your face. You wish you could speak to them. Say something, anything.

The priest is speaking in a low and calm voice, talking about death and life and love and loss. You wish he'd just shut the hell up because he's not making any sense and you'd rather let the silence speak for you. You'd rather let your family and friends hear the wind and the trees, rather let them feel the sun warming their skin, rather let them speak their own thoughts and words. You want them to be aware of all the wonders that they take for granted everyday. You watch them from where you're standing and you wonder if they will forget you.

You walk forwards until you're right behind him, until you can smell him and feel his warmth and strength. You reach out to touch his shoulder, and he shivers. You can feel him, warm and strong, but he cannot feel you. He can only sense you. You close your eyes and keep your hand on his shoulder. One last time, you think. I need to feel him one last time, before I move on, before he moves on and forgets.

The priest has stopped speaking, and the silence screams at you. If only they could hear you. You take a step closer to him, invading his personal space without really being alive enough to do so. You're just a soul and you are not meant for this place anymore.

The people you love stand around the forever frozen body and they are silent. The sun shines brilliantly upon the green trees and the freshly cut grass. You're standing behind him and you try with all your strength to give all of them some kind of sign that you are there and that you're mourning with them. This funeral is not only in honour of you, no this is a funeral in honour of them and all the things they did for you. You lean closer to him and stand on the tip of your toes.

"Don't forget me." you whisper. It's an order. You kiss his neck (you're selfish) and turn around, and start running.

As you reach the big oak, you turn around to find him staring at you. You look back at him with big eyes and wonder if you're hallucinating (are you even able to hallucinate?), because he is looking right at you, his blue blue eyes boring into your entire being. The wind catches your hair and gently tugs at it, and you smile at him as your eyes begin to fill with tears.

"I love you." you say and he shouldn't be able to hear you, but his mouth opens slightly in shock and you know he did.

Slowly, you turn around, and fade into the brilliance that is the light of the sun.