The Final Good-bye: Journal of A Dead

I was nine years old when I died.

Many people believe that with death comes permanent peace. It doesn't. Death is simply another phase of existence your life has ended, not your existence. No matter how desperately you'd wish for it to end. Most are lucky. They don't remember their living lives. They don't wish to seek it either. So in that regard, sure, death may bring peace in your next phase but not me.

I don't remember the details of my death or living life simply that I was young and powerful. Yes, in certain eras or cultures, even minors can be more significant and powerful then an adult or inventor.

Why my status was high, I could not tell you. I do, however, distinctly remember having a brother and watching in pain, his consuming grief. Of course, it was many centuries after the fact (at least in my time). I believe my death wasn't of a natural cause or pretty in the slightest. Whatever caused it left those behind nothing but spirit to bury.

I think I loved my brother. In glances, I've watched the living, and they always seem to resent or hate their siblings. I don't think that was our relationship. I am certain I admired and respected him. I think he felt the same. An indifferent sibling in my experience does not grieve as he did. I even suspect he felt guilty whether because he was involved or out of obligation, I will never know.

Sometimes, I look down, up, or to the sides and wonder if he has passed onto his next phase yet.

Wondering whether the forces of nature will allow us a moment.

I traversed at least three phases I can remember before reaching this one some shorter, some longer, each removing more and more living memories.

Then... sometimes I feel a great pit of sadness what if in his next phase he is lucky and forgets his past then only his living life lives on in my memories.

There is also the concern that since I entered the next phase so young if we will ever be in the next chapter again. Hopefully, he lived a long and flattering life. I'd feel guilty if I heard otherwise.

I don't fully understand how the life after works having been here for so long. Things can blur. Like I said, most don't remember or concern themselves with their past living lives they move on- yet I can't.

He was my only connection to my past I don't recall any other family, friends, advisors, anything. Just a grieving brother who I felt compelled to comfort. He wished me to move on yet I still grieve with him in my childlike mind. Of course we do not remain children-

Or do we? I'm not sure. Things are different here.

I hope he did well for himself and wonder if any of the Livers (ha ha get it?) Are his descendents. My descendants. If I've seen them without realizing. Any my age currently that will live to an old age.

Don't get me wrong I don't torture myself with my past phases but occasionally the child who died and stood besides their brother misses and grieves with him. The lost time I felt entitled to...

Those in my phase don't quite understand what that is like because they don't remember. They don't have to. I fear only those who remember their death or memories can truly empathize with the experienced experience.

Not that those who had families forgot them because they didn't care enough to remember. No. I am very much in the minority. Many believed I lived a terrible living life as it is a common belief only those that deserve to be tormented remember, which makes speaking of this subject so difficult and extremely hush hush. Yes even in the life after living life superstitions and taboos very much exist. But in my experience those 'demon souls' as we call them reach a different phase what exactly no one has told but those who know grimace so I imagine if I was a terrible person I'd know.

I don't know. I just... in case- my next phase comes soon and I can not reunite. I just hope those like me can read this and know their not alone. Or maybe I should just shred this nonsense and move on like the rest... but I rarely ever hear anyone speak of this phenomenon (and trust me I've been here a while). Remembering the living lives. I've at least never seen it in writing. Maybe- perhaps, at least one can read this and empathize.

I felt the need to write this down. I fear this phase is ending soon- though I cannot be sure. I just- I just... want him to know I held on for as long as I could and remembered even if in the next one I do not... the memories will always lie in the heart however it presents itself.

I grieved with you.

Good-bye.