Jacks Last Day.

“I don’t remember the exact date that I died. But I do remember the day itself. I remember it being cold. A grey day as my old mum used to say. It was winter, but I’m not sure which month.

Damp. I remember it being damp.

There was a smell in the air that I can’t describe. Maybe it was the smell of death.

I’d just come back from getting the morning paper. Made myself a cup of tea and sat down.

Everything seemed to go quiet, like when you turn the wireless off. Instant silence.

It wasn’t unpleasant from what I can remember. It started with a tingling sensation in the fingers of my left hand, then my wrist, then it seemed like my whole arm had pins and needles.

I wasn’t frightened or scared. In fact it made me smile. I stared at my arm for what seemed like an age, but was probably only a few seconds. It seemed to have a life of its own that I had no control over. Then it was as if someone suddenly punched me hard in the chest. I used to box as a younger man and know that feeling well.

Now here’s the strange part. I knew it was the end. Instantly knew it. Welcomed it in fact.

I was eighty nine years old. Edna had been gone for nearly twenty years. The kids were all grown up; in fact two of them were now drawing their old age pension. The grandchildren were settled with their own families and seemed happy enough. So yes, I welcomed it.

The pain soon went away. A darkness fell over my eyes, but only for a few seconds. Then I heard a familiar voice. A calm, comforting voice. “Come on Jack, this way.”

I followed it. My movement was strange. As if I was treading water in the sea. My feet not touching anything yet I was still able to move. I suppose swimming is the most appropriate word.

I’d heard people talk of a light at the end of a tunnel. But not for me. I was bathed in light. It was everywhere.

That’s pretty much it really. The next thing I remember is sitting in a corridor and being told to wait for my name to be called. Wasn’t long before it was.

And here I am. You asked me to tell you my experience and that’s what I’ve done.”

A middle aged, grey haired woman smiled at Jack.

“Thank you Mister Reynolds, that’s very helpful. Everyone’s transition is slightly different and we like people to tell us about it. You’re ready to go through now. Edna’s been waiting patiently for a long time.”

Jack stood up and began to walk to the door at the end of the room. The woman called after him.

“Mister Reynolds, just in case you’re interested. The day you died. It was October 6th 1948. I’m afraid the wait in the corridor was longer than you thought.”

Jack never heard a word. All he saw was the door open and Edna with her arms outstretched.