Societal Obituary

When did I die? For a dead person I am still very much alive. My headstone lies over an empty grave because I am not resting in peace. Survived by my mother, father, brother, sister-in-law, and four nieces and nephew my family members are not part of the places I haunt. I still occasionally get to see them, but my cats know me better. The cats are my constant companions. I had a husband once, but we parted ways almost a decade ago and possibly that was when I died. I never had children, and I am grateful for this. A ghost cannot look after the needs of others. I am a writer still, appearing and disappearing on the pages in ink. Once in awhile I travel places to enjoy the laughter and conversation of other people. They tend to forget me if I do not come around more often.  I remember my life and my temporal existence is not horribly bad off, most days. However, I like to talk about myself and what it is like to be in this way and where I was before. Other people bore by these stories and they want to discuss their children and their churches and their own troubles. I have learned to listen, as well, but a ghost must at times weep and mourn and work out his or her own chains. I have not forgotten who I am and I do want others to know me.  The trouble is that we do not connect in the same world the same way, and sometimes this frightens the living. I get cold and I get angry because I am not always happy with the way things are.  Often, I wonder if helping others will release me to a better level of comfort. Sometimes I put my energies to work following this idea and it seems that I remain the same. I am still here and I do not like the idea that one day I might not be any longer.  It is easier to write about life than to try to reclaim it. Perhaps my name and my pen are less scary to others than watching me float through their environment without knowing why I am there. Other ghosts visit once and awhile, but we are territorial and solitary because every ghost carries their own pain.  I have been told one day I will see the light. My peace is often darkness. Walking in the sun is not difficult, but the nighttime hides my decomposition and I find people understand ghosts that do not pretend to still exist in the same manner as the living. I find there is less incompatibility with others when we accept one another. The intrusions of planes of existence colliding should be handled gracefully because they remind us we are not alone. There is a reason I have not passed from the Earth, whatever the reason. I may be dead, but I am still alive.



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