The Last Goodbye: A Short Story

I was seventeen when I died.
It was a helpless night drive after a party. Or so we thought.
I never saw it coming. Nobody did.
We were a couple of immature teenagers, Jill and I.
Jill was drunk. We both were. And she was driving.
There was an ugly sharp turn, and a black car.
Jill somehow survived, but not me.
We were immediately driven to the hospital, where Jill was found with several injuries and a concussion.
As for me, I was done.
The last thing I remembered was a bright light.
That was it. I wasn't moving forward through life. No prom, no graduation, no living.
But there was just one thing left.
I was dead, but I wasn't gone.
I was still roaming this Earth, except, no one could see me.
I wandered alone for days, wondering what I was still doing, practically still living.
Turns out, I had a purpose. I still had some unfinished business to take care of before I was completely gone.
It wasn't going to be easy, but that's life, even when your dead.