Afterlife

Information

“-ou think she can hear us?”

“It’s always a possibility any unconscious patient can hear; hearing is usually the last sense to deteriorate when…” The person talking faded out, but you can still understand what they were about to say. ‘When the person is dying.’

There was a silence that followed afterward. The silent background noises were the same as before; a steady and consistent beeping, a silent drip from somewhere nearby, the quiet footfalls from the people outside of my new room, and now, the soft breathing of...three people.

I still couldn’t feel any part of my body anymore...nor could I move it. It just felt...heavy; an unknown anchor that’s holding me down. Unlike before though, I could barely feel anything around me; I couldn’t feel the soft, rough texture of the new bed, the warmth of the sun that was somewhere on the lower part of my body, the small punctures on my arms, and, probably the bright side of this, the sharp and painful feeling in my mid-section.

“I’ll let you guys be then..” With that, one of the three people left, the closing the door behind them with a loud thud.

There was another sound as if someone sat down in a chair, then it was followed by the other person doing the same.

Silence still followed, but then it was broken with a quiet sound. It...it had the tone of being in despair; it had me feeling sorrowful for the person. They...were crying.

“It’s okay, mom. She’ll come to soon.” This was from the other person...the one that was silently beside the sad, crying...women.

“My little girl!” An anguished sound came from her, but it was as silent as her weeping, which was barely louder than the constant beeping.

‘My little girl’? ‘Mom’? Was...this woman my mother? What makes the other person? A sibling...sounded like a male...so my brother? Do they know why I’m here? Do…

Do they know why I was in that certain state of mind?

When I knew who they were, I couldn’t help but think of all the questions I wanted to ask them; questions like ‘what is my name’ or ‘where are we’, but also the inconvenient, like ‘do I have a dog’ or ‘can we build a small treehouse’.

But, this was just knowledge and erupting questions; not something new I can do. This new knowledge doesn’t excuse the fact that I can’t move or feel any part of my body.

“Hey, mom?”

She sniffled before trying to speak in a clearer voice. “Yes, Noah?” Guess Noah’s my brother, then.

“Remember-” he paused silently before continuing,”-when you gave her the camera?”

A breathless laugh echoed through the small room.

“Of course I do. She kept taking picture of the yard in different angles the first day she got it.” My mother sounded like she was smiling. “Then she moved on to living subjects like Norway and the many bugs or birds.” She let out a soft, quiet chuckle.

“Yeah, she loved taking pictures,”Noah commented. “What do you think her subjects are now?”

“Well, I always figure they are still living things...like maybe nearby birds or people in a scenic view, like behind a sunrise or something.” There was a moment of silence before she said,”I wonder if she can actually hear us.”

The two were in silence again and it gave me some time to go through what they just said. I liked to take pictures? What are ‘pictures’? Was ‘taking pictures’ considered a job? Or was it more of a pass time? Pictures can be take...an image of an object? That some what makes sense. And...Norway...the name seemed familiar…I wonder who or what this particular Norway is. Well, it was something living so that narrows it down a bit...slightly.