Death for Dummies

Chapter 1// Tuesday Night

I guess I never really thought about dying. I just never had the inclination to think too deeply about life after life. Sure, my mother was religious and would take us to church every Sunday, but I never paid much attention. The extent of my knowledge is this: there is a creator, He had a son, son did some badass stuff while on Earth, son left Earth to be with Him again. Pretty much that's all I got from my weekly visits in the past 17 years.

Not once in those 17 years did I think well hey! Guess I'm gonna die one day, too! Then I can ride the Golden Escalator right upstairs and see my creator and the dude that also died for our sins!!

No. I didn't think about dying until 8:43 pm on Tuesday night. I was playing Wii bowling with my sister, Grace, when suddenly her 3-year-old mind decides to ask, "Jack, what do you do when you die?" I kind of just stood there and looked at Grace. I mean, for God's sake she was three and already having an existential crisis. Grace stared at me like she always did when waiting for an answer. I didn't really know what to tell her. I didn't know what you do when you die. Do you go to Heaven with the pearly gates or do you go to Hell with the fire and the demons and the blah blah blah? Or did you just cease to be? I just stood there thinking for what seemed like hours.

"Gracie, how the hell would I know?" I say to her before I turn off the Wii. "It's time for you to go to bed or I'm calling Charlotte," She quickly hopped into bed with her teddy in one arm and blanket in the other. I blew her a kiss and turned out the light. That little brat would be back up in 10 minutes asking for a glass of water.

After leaving Gracie's room, I went to check on the others. My mom was a nurse so she worked a lot of the shittiest hours, leaving my older sister Charlotte and I in charge of the younger kids. There were 5 of us total- Charlotte, who was 18; me, at 17; Henry, who was 15; Noah, who was 7; and of course, Grace, who was 3. I entered Henry's room and the wave of gross almost knocked me on my ass.

"Henry, I told you to clean your room after dinner," I yelled over the blaring music. Henry had just discovered AC/DC and had to let the whole neighborhood know that he was a badass. Henry didn't even look up from his laptop and gave me the middle finger. I kept my anger under control but raised my voice so he could hear me loud and clear, "Oh, wow! Such a badass, Henny. How would you like if I taped that picture of you when you were four all over the school?"

The music stopped. An almost eerie silence washed over the house as Henry closed his laptop.

"You wouldn't fucking dare, Jack." He grumbled. I smirked at him. When Henry was 4 he went through a My Little Ponies phase. He had his entire room decorated top to bottom with those damn things. For his birthday, my mother got him a costume of one of those guys and snapped a picture of him wearing it- except he was so afraid of the clown also at his birthday that he had instantaneously pissed himself. If that picture ever made it out of the photo album and into circulation Henry would have to change his name and move to Alaska.

"Clean your fucking room, turn the music down, and get to bed. If Charlie comes home and you're still awake- ", I didn't even finish my sentence before he got out of bed and started picking up the heaps of dirty clothes on his floor.

The kids listened to me, sure, but they were afraid of Charlotte. Although we were only 11 months apart she had always been the leader, the big sister. If Mom wasn't home, she was in charge. Even if Mom was home but sleeping, eating, working, etcetera- Charlotte was in charge. However, Charlotte was two months away from graduating and had to start working to save up for college. She got a job at a local diner and easily made over $100 every night but came home at almost midnight, only an hour before Mom.

After I left Henry's room, I went next door to Noah's room to check in. He was the second most responsible of the five, after Charlie of course. Noah was only seven but already had Harvard in mind. He did his best in school, made the most logical decisions, and went to bed at 8 to wake up refreshed at 6 every morning. I cracked the door open and saw that he was sleeping as sound as an uptight seven-year-old could sleep. Secretly, Noah was my favorite of the younger three. He never made me ponder upon philosophical matters, never listened to rock music at ungodly volumes and kept his room a mess, never did anything really. He was a good kid and was going places.