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“There are documented studies—fuck, actual books with published accounts—describing people in comas whocrossedover into the afterlife. They have crystal clear memories of meeting with their loved ones… some can even recall exactly what was happening in the hospital room. While they were in the coma.”
After my father’s death, it was no surprise that I’d grown a fascination with death. Well, more specifically than merely death.The Afterlife. Near Death Experiences. Even something known as After Death Communication— accounts of people who had somehow been in contact with their deceased loved ones. I’d researched it all. In hopes of, well… I wasn’t sure in hope of what exactly.
Finding some answers, I guess.
Though Jamie and I had argued over things I may not have had a clear stance on before, this was different.Personal. It wasn’t that I knew for a fact, without a shadow of a doubt, that life after death was actually a thing.
It was just that, in this specific case, I needed to believe it to be true.
Even though I wasn’t sure that my logical brain could ever believe in anything more than the physical world which surrounded me every day. In order to continue living, I needed to know there was something beyond this life.
For my own sanity.
For the hopes of, maybe one day, being able to see my dad again.
For the hopes that, when I died, the computer wouldn’t just shut off. That I wouldn’t simply cease to exist.
I never got into any of these thoughts with people, including Jamie. I was too scared they—specifically, my mom—would think I was absolutely nuts. That I’d be sent far, far away and never see the sight of daylight ever again.
“Everett Kozlowski is a prime example,” I continued uneasily, crossing into private territory I usually never delved into with outsiders who were away from the space on the internet where I did my research.
Jamie’s jaw hung open, not in astonishment per se, but rather as if he was contemplating my response before replying. His brows knit, and he pressed his fist up to his mouth, thinker style, like he always did.
“That doesn’t sound like scientific evidence,” Jamie concluded.
“There are primary sources who say that’s what they saw!”
“But… the human mind is fallible. How can we trust those sources? How do we know those memories from the coma patients aren’t just imagined, brought on by the trauma they’ve experienced in their brain?”
“Would so many people have merelyimaginedthat?”
“Uh. Yeah,” Jamie said, matter-of-fact. “Yes, actually. They totally could have.”
I didn’t tell Jamie this part—because telling him this would get far too private—but I already knew his argument very well. In my internal debate over the meaning of life and whether or not our souls were eternal, I’d researched the living fuck out of both sides. I hated hearing the argument about the brain being fallible. About scientists being able to replicate in the brain every internal neurological sensation a coma patient with a supposed near-death experience had ever recounted.
It was the part of the argument that always made me think that, realistically, it wasn’t possible that life could exist beyond our own inevitable physical death. A deep, fearful sadness sat behind my eyes. Each of my hands clung to its respective pant leg.
“It’s like Epicurus believed…” Jamie’s voice trailed off. He stopped. Looked out toward the hearth of the fireplace as if he now pondered the many marvels of the universe. His expression became lost, like he was stuck inside his own mind, no longer speaking to anyone but himself. His next words were barely a whisper. “If you no longer exist, how could you possibly feel hurt over your non-existence?”
He exhaled. His breath caressed the side of my neck, and a chill shot up my spine.
“Death can’t be bad for you at any time,” Jamie murmured. “Because… once it arrives, you’re gone. When the pain is over, when death has come for you, you no longer know what’s even hit you.”
Once it arrives, you’re gone.
I stared down at my lap, the crackling of the logs serenading my thoughts. Considering that death surrounded us all from the very beginning. Even the wood in the hearth. Every crackle, every moment of time, directly correlated to the burning away of the physical material which then transformed into flames that crawled up into the chimney. And out into the universe. Never to be what it once was.
It was only a matter of time until I would one day be nothing more than an empty corpse lying in the ground somewhere.
“You’re… crying.”
Jamie’s words pulled me back to reality. Instinctively—defensively—I reached a hand to the side of my face and brushed away the tears tickling my cheeks. My skin burned from the embarrassment of anyone seeing me this way. I curled inward, hoping we could move past this moment and get back to one of our debates.
“Are you okay?” he whispered. “Did I say something wrong?”
“Oh, uh, no,” I lied, clearing my throat. Once I wiped the other side of my face and took a deep breath, I glanced back over his way. Jamie’s bright blue eyes clouded with concern. He looked down when my eyes met his, hands clasped over his lap. Slowly, he lifted his face, expression full of a sadness that, somehow, I knew only the two of us could comprehend. The weight of the world rested in his expression. I could see that now. Though the pain was hidden beneath the exterior layers externalized as the shy, sometimes animated boy sitting next to me.
He cautiously lifted an arm up and over my shoulders. I welcomed the gesture, though it made me cry even harder. A rush of emotion flooded out of my body in the form of more tears as my own weight fell heavy upon my shoulders. Life. Existence. My own meaning. Nothing was certain.
