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Short story by Roshann Aimielle S Uba

Reynaldo, that’s my name. Reynaldo Guzman S. Arcillo, 53 years of age, worked as a senior manager at a soft drinks and beverages manufacturing company outside Quiapo, widowed, and a father to three daughters. Let me rephrase that, I was a father to my three daughters. You might think that it’s peculiar that I continue to refer to myself in the past tense but well, there is a reason for that, and that reason is because I am… well… dead.

I don’t mean that in a sort of emotional or even hypothetical way. In fact, I never really liked using any fancy-schmancy words or complicated figures of speech. Back to my current condition, I am physically dead. Heart-beat: zero, breathing: zero, sign of life: absolutely zero. It all happened so quickly, too quickly even. It was around half-past nine and I was driving home from work to see my daughters when I suddenly realized that the brakes of the car weren’t functioning An SUV was coming in my direction so I swerved to avoid collision and the rest is history Was history Now, I sit on the sidewalk in this phantasmal or even “ghostly” form that I now possess, watching as first-aid responders and emergency services carry the cold and lifeless corpse I once called mine out of the car wreckage.

It all happened too quickly but if I’m being honest, I’m not really scared, or angry even. Sure I was confused at first, especially since I am now what most people would call a ghost or spirit, but I got over it after I took a few deep breaths and watched as people gathered around the scene of my incident and the ambulance came.

I accept death. It comes and will come to everything and everyone someday, and for me, that day is today. The only regret I will leave behind is never seeing my daughters’ faces one last time. Then, a sudden thought came to mind. I don’t want to leave with a single regret. Not a single one.

I ran in the direction of our house Passing through walls and cars and even people; never once stopping. I can feel that this form won’t last very long and I was starting to hear angelic voices behind me telling me to “come home” and to “rest”. I whispered under my breath, “Not yet, just a little more time” as I continued to run. After some time, I reached home.

The lights were off and the house was quiet. Well, I kind of expected it to be this way since I almost always get home late due to working overtime. I only get to eat with my daughters during the few chances I get off work early. My daughters are usually asleep by this time already, tired from work mostly. The door was locked, which was no problem for me in this new form of mine. I entered to find the three of them sleeping on the couch, probably waiting for me to get home. My eyes got teary from imagining the grief and pain they will feel in the morning, but for now, they deserve this peace. Concentrating to the best of my abilities, I was able to pick up a blanket after failing several times in the bedroom to cover them so they could sleep comfortably. My death will bring pain and greyness to their lives for a short while, but I believe that all the memories and times we have spent together will bring them warmth. I muttered to them, “I love you all, take care of yourself for me” with a weak smile on my face. Now, I’m ready to go home because I can say proudly that I’ve lived a full life