I died in the spring.
It was a good death, if that's something you can believe. I went peacefully, while I was asleep, after a life long lived. I died leaving no real regret behind, and with only the barest bit of fear going forward.
I was never a religious woman, so I didn't really think I was headed for some grand beyond. I was a realist my whole life, believing that if anything, I was going to be back to earth, providing my lifelong home with the opportunity to create more life.
It gave me comfort, thinking that.
On my deathbed, I was surrounded by my loving family. Well, at least those with the stomach for it. My three children, my two grandchildren. They were sad, and I suppose I was sad to leave them, in a way. But I was happy, too.
I'd brought them up in the world and I did my darndest making sure they could do the same for theirs. So I was happy with them, but also with myself. I felt like I was leaving goodness after me. As I slowly faded away from the room, and indeed from life, I thought about all the time I'd had. I wouldn't say my life flashed before my eyes, but I'd say it kind of eeked past me, so I got one last look, If I cared to see it. Instead of a flash, it felt more like a train ride. The train was moving whether I did anything or not, and I could choose to look out the window onto my life's events if I wanted, or I could tuck my head down and scream. I looked out the window and saw fields of endless flowers, flowers of the years of my life and other lives. There were lillies and roses and violets and orchids. There were tall trees in the back and daffodils growing just next to the train tracks. There was a smell of happy freshness. I was not scared as the train rumbled steadily on into the light. I was not scared.