The Funnel of Light

This story contains mentions of death and mental health struggles.

I was in the air, the atmosphere thick with me like moisture. Surfing the wind, it was as if I was fallen foliage twisting in the gust- but not at the mercy of the current like a helpless leaf. Mother Nature and I were equals, her formidable arsenal no longer my concern. I was dead, after all.

But not gone. My essence lingered, almost undetectable- though Milo who would set her ears rigid and whine reproachfully whenever I came to visit. I had always hated that stupid dog. Still, I was glad Leah had the mutt to keep her company. My own efforts didn’t seem to bring her much solace. Trying to comfort my sister when she cried, I cloaked myself around her shoulders like a weighted blanket. There was no response from her body. She did talk to me sometimes; about her day, her new boyfriend, mum and dad. Her words would stick awkwardly in the silence that followed, unacknowledged. She soon became too self-conscious to continue, unaware that I had heard it all.  

With the night came the shift; the divide between the departed and the living seemed to thin in the early hours of the morning. Leah woke in a start, lurching upright in her bed. With probing eyes, she surveyed the darkness, like she knew she was not alone. Leah had never been one for ghost stories, rolling her green flecked eyes and sighing at my futile attempts to scare her. “Don’t you think Nana would have come to see us?” She would argue, dismissing my babbling with a flex of her slender fingers. Now, her troubled mind unable to sleep, she began the trudge down the hallway to the bathroom. Pausing abruptly halfway, her posture stiffened suddenly with alertness. As if to be casual, she relaxed her shoulders and continued on her path. Then in a swift movement, she turned back over her shoulder, like we were children again and playing another game of Creep up on Granny. I wasn’t in front or behind, but all around. We spirits loitered like the tiny, usually invisible particles of dust that were only seen under the fingers of sunshine invading through the gap in the drapes. The witching hour yanked the curtain inwards to that perfect angle for sight, for awareness, funnelling the light.

***

I had been watching them that day, the glittering specks, luminated by the golden beam that was pouring through the window of the healthcare practice. “I need to know you understand Amy,” the doctor had interrupted gently. I nodded. It wasn’t confusing in any way. I was going to die.

The ride home had been hard, not because the doctor had confirmed my impending doom. Not because the weather was awful. My favourite car rides were accompanied by the slick of rain infused with moonlight, and droplets tracing down the windows in their unpredictable patterns. I watched them drizzle down the glass, gaining speed like they were each racing on their own individual course, pretending not to notice my mother glancing worriedly at me in the rearview mirror. “It’s okay to be sad Amy,” She coaxed, looking for any kind of reaction, “It’s okay to admit you’re scared.” But I wasn’t sad, and I wasn’t really scared. Soon it would all be over, and I would be free. That journey was difficult, only because I could see the agony etched into my mother’s face as she grappled with the reality of outliving her youngest daughter.

***

I could go to any time, any place. Visit any person. Unravelled from the constraints of time, I had seen Before, and I had seen After. We would all be together again, our conversations no longer dismembered across planes. Although she did not admit it- and griped at my excessive gloating that I had been right- Leah was grateful to find that there was more to existence than life. Mum and dad forgave me, for letting it happen. Afterall, I was not the cause, even if I could have been the solution. Myself, I believed it was a favour. I let the natural course unfold, liberating my sister from her earthly limits.

***

Then everything was turned on its head, I was bound back to the timeline like a fly stranded in a web. Leah had always spent the evening of my birthday at my parents’ house, the three of them sat silently around the table over a sad takeaway of soggy pizza. It didn’t come as a surprise that nobody was in the mood to cook, though ordering in had long lost its lustre as a treat. How could I be stuck in this miserable moment, forced to bear the mournful, battered faces of the people I loved the most? Why couldn’t I leave? Aware it was the night before the accident, I lamented at the image of Leah so glum and defeated, oblivious that we were about to be reunited. This memory couldn’t be the last thing I experienced before our reunion, it would only sully the sweetness.

That night I was restless, spiralling around the room. Milo growled and grumbled, her lumbering head resting dolefully on her fat paws. I dove and leapt, disconcerted by my imprisonment. What if Leah and I were stuck here forever? Lurking in the shadows of my parents’ barren home, a pitiful shrine to our family. Their new faces only capable of grief, like they were branded with it. It was then that I understood. And it needed to be now, while the veneer that separated us was weakened. I began to ramp it up, cavorting, capering, electrifying the air so it prickled the whiskers around Milo’s nose. She yapped incessantly, stirring Leah from her slumber over, and over. “What is it girl?” Leah moaned, exasperated. Eventually she gave in and let Milo clamber up onto the bed, and the dog continued to circle restlessly, kneading and fussing.

***

When morning arrived, I found myself free again, though I knew that I wouldn’t be leaving yet. The trap had been of my own making in the end, the cosmic fine for those who hoped to meddle in the affairs of time and succeed. Leah dragged herself out of bed after a dismal night of sleep, rubbing her swollen eyes. She struggled into her uniform, scraping back her unwashed hair into a hair tie and half-heartedly brushing her teeth. Just as she came to the door, her hand on the knob, Milo complained loudly again at my frolicking. My final touch. Leah sighed, turning back. “For God’s sake Milo, what now? I’m going to miss the bus!” And she did. I love that stupid dog.

***

Mum and Dad no longer had to forgive. “Thank you for sparing us more pain,” my mother whispered, entangling her particles with mine in what would become our new version of a hug.