Swathed by the irresistible fragrance of flowers I was aroused to awareness. Their aromatic bouquet floated on the air, filling my senses. I found myself sitting on a small sofa in the back of a room. Family and friends surrounded me. Their conversation droned and seemed muddled. People drifted in and out, moving toward the front of the room. I wondered what they had come to see.

        Suddenly I realized no one was smiling and it occurred to me the only sound was mourning. Abruptly I stood up, pushing my way to the front of the crowd. I stood thunderstruck, taken aback by the sight of my lifeless body. I lay shrouded in white lace. Moving closer to the casket I peered inside. Overall, I looked pretty good considering the damage the accident caused me. I envied the make-up artist, she had mad skills. I appeared posed for a photo shoot. My eye shadow never looked so good.  

     They even managed to hide the gash on my forehead with some cosmetic make-up and careful placement of my hair. Of course the outfit they chose for my final hurrah seemed a little unadorned. Something with a little color . . . say pink or purple would have seemed more fitting. Nevertheless, everyone kept saying I looked fantastic. Wrapping my head around that sentiment was difficult, considering I was dead. But I was Jackie Marks, stylish in life and apparently chic in death.

      I stood by my body watching as each person paid their final respects to me. Nick Hartman drew near. His hands shook and he was seemingly unsettled. He kneeled in front of my coffin, never opening his eyes. I imagine the thought of seeing a corpse overwhelmed him. At least he came to say goodbye to me. I thought possibly he’d profess his love for me. But he made the sign of the cross on his chest and said, “Sorry Jax.” His parents held each arm helping him up from the bench and they walked away.

     So many people came to say goodbye to me. I felt truly honored. My best friend Lila made her way to the casket and knelt down before me. Her eyes were open and she inspected me thoroughly; studying me so long I thought she was taking notes on my spectacular eye make-up. She said a prayer and touched my face. Before leaving she said, "Please forgive me… I never meant for this to happen. Goodbye Jax.” Wiping her teary eyes, Lila strolled out the door.

     Poor Lila was feeling guilty about my death. I wanted to tell her she was being silly. It wasn’t her fault that I died or that Lizzie ran the stop sign. Maybe she was feeling guilty she drove to school with Nick that morning, instead of me. Usually, Lila drove with me, but she never called me that morning. Whatever the reason, she needn’t feel guilty. My death was unavoidable. If I were going to blame someone, it would be that ex-guardian angel of mine, Celeste!

     Eventually, the crowd dwindled and my mother was left sitting alone. She was holding up pretty good earlier, but now there was no one left to console her. My father was talking to the funeral director regarding the morning service and my grandparents had already taken my younger brother home. Tears marked her face as she wept silently. I hugged her and kissed her face. I told her not to be sad that I was fine. . . But she sobbed even harder. I placed my hand on hers, saying my final goodbyes. I knew she wasn’t aware of my presence, but I was thankful for the opportunity.

     My mother was so grief stricken she could barely stand. Weak legs scarcely managed to carry her to my casket one last time. She touched my hand, and fell weeping over my body. Her quiet sobbing became whaling, the sound was utterly agonizing. My father had to pull her away from my dead body. It was about that time Lizzie removed me from the funeral home. I was deeply upset  and she worried allowing me to see too much of my mother’s anguish would torment me in my new life. Although it was sorrowing, I felt it was a blessing to say goodbye to her, to get the chance I never had.

     Standing outside the funeral home I realized several hours had passed. Still dark, it was the early hours before my burial. I heard the sound of Damien’s red Challenger approaching. He pulled into the parking lot and cut the engine. He sat in his car a long time before finally getting out. Curiously I watched him circling the building. Suddenly, I became aware of his intentions. That’s about the time he found the unlocked window. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a small pocket knife and cut the screen. Pushing up the encasement he pulled himself up and crawled inside.

      All at once I found myself within the funeral parlor. Damien was standing several feet from my casket. He appeared anxious, clenching his jaw so tightly that every muscle in his face was defined.  As he moved closer towards my lifeless body he fought back the tears that were forming in his dismal green eyes. Kneeling on the bench in front of my coffin he silently said goodbye. Tears streaked his sullen face and he wiped them away with his sleeve. He seemed without a friend in the world. I wanted to reach out and hold him, tell him it would be okay, but I knew he wouldn’t hear me.

     Unpredictably, he reached into his pocket and removed a crumpled piece of paper. As he was about to read the scribbled lines the overhead lights flicked on. “Maybe next time…” he said just above a whisper. Jumping to his feet he folded the note and tenderly placed it underneath my rigid hands. The warmth of Damien’s mouth caressed my cold lips, but the moment was fleeting. Two police officers apprehended him, throwing him to the floor they placed him in handcuffs.