Things I Remember Most About Dying

I think it was the dampness that hit me first. 10:30pm sunlight was coming from somewhere but the dampness, the cool, spider web, mouse droppings, aging dampness that makes things eerie; slightly dangerous. That's what got my attention. I remember the quiet, utter quiet. No bright loving light like so many had told of before - before it happened to me, that is. Limbo. Nothing happening. Could the atheists have been right? I’m nothing but worm food? Something like a plastic sheet waves slightly and softly to my left. Did it move? Darkness covers over.

There was a warmth coming from somewhere. I could sense it on my right forearm and cheek. Too faint to make me look in that direction. Stuffy. Why is it so stuffy? Like white fungus all fuzzy and peeling from a concrete wall.

I’d like to go back now. This isn’t fun. Why can’t I move? Don’t panic. Don’t panic.

Is that humming? Is it in my head? Is it humming? There certainly isn’t any light; not coming toward me or otherwise. That part is a lie. Why would they lie about that?

There’s no pain. That’s a good thing. A lifetime of arthritis has not removed from me a fear of pain. And now - deathtime -

This is not fun.

I hope my mother's not here.