Deaths Journey

It's ironic really how much of our life's we wish away.

Eighty, the big old eight-oh. I would never have thought that I would be this peaceful at this age. Two handsome sons and a beautiful daughter and six gorgeous grandchildren. My whole life since 21 has revolved around family...
But now, well now that's all I have left behind for people to remember me by. "Meredith, the family lady." God I wish I had spent more time on a career, I would have had a much healthier life and wouldn't have had to leave my family earlier.

Eighty, just eighty.

Most people would say that life is short but I never really took any notice. Life. A wonderful yet underrated thing. Many people don't appreciate it, but let me tell you... You should.
By the time anyone had found me, my skin was white like the winter snow. My blood had finished its final lap; my heart, well my heart was stone. No movement. No nothing.

Death!
It's a mysterious journey. You never know when it's going to strike you. The good thing about it is you will never know.
Seven minutes. That's how much brain activity you have after you've gone. Yet, it will seem like a lifetime.
You never really know what or when it will happen.
My fingers at this point are numb. Lifeless. The room darkening. Shadows like phantoms of death mocking my existence. No sound but the whistling wind. Saddened blues and purples colour the once vibrant red walls.
Although the rooms were dark; my doll-like eyes saw light. My thighs were dead however I could still think...
Heaven? Or just a dream?...
My stone cold pale while body whithered away. Those seven minutes had begun. Seven minutes to relive my life. All the memories replayed as if I was born again.
You don't really know if your dead or not...

But if I'm dead... And you can read this...
Doesn't it mean your dead too?
Death: ironic isn't it?