An 18-wheeler truck was speeding on the wrong side of the road while trying to overtake another vehicle.
It only caught sight of your sedan seconds before it plunged into you, causing you to fly off the road and disappear to the bottom of the gorge.
I saw you two days before, and you were so excited about the plans you had for the year. You had finally registered your business, you were getting back to traveling and writing and you had just gotten off your anti-depressants.
You were in a great place.
It wasn’t your time to go.
Death came too early.
Seeing you lying in the coffin in front of the altar at church was unreal.
Your body was desolate – your spirit was gone.
As I wept, I wanted to take the life I had inside of me and pump it into your body so that I could hear you breathe again and laugh again.
Not a single eye was dry during your funeral procession – we all wondered how we were meant to live without you.
All of a sudden, something strange happened.
The people sitting closest to the coffin heard the faint sound someone gasping for air.
Your coffin then started rustling.
With a loud gasp, you raised your upper body from the coffin, your pale face beginning to redden as blood and air rushed back to your body.
“Water, water,” you said while struggling to breathe…
* image from Creative Commons.