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The night he died, I felt him pass through me. My heart didn't shatter, it cracked; like a dinner plate, absent-mindedly placed on a hot burner, it sounded the same in my ears. I felt and heard my heart crack completely apart. I had nothing to console me. I stood frozen in my kitchen, ears ringing with fear and grief. My entire body hummed with panic; I couldn't see, I felt blinded by the light. I had to move to darkness, and I took to my bed.
Oddly, a serene calmness came over me. I was alarmed by the sudden emotional shift, and for the first time, I felt shock rip through me, and settle in, like an old friend visiting for the first time in a long time. I felt dangerous and raw at that moment. No other earnest prayer ever came from within me. I shook with the fierceness of my frantically desperate words, yet my chest felt cold with either sadness or fear, as I could not discern the emotions running through me. I knew at that point, I had lost control of everything in the world I lived in.
I had no tears, my determination to be heard was far greater than shedding tears. I prayed not for him to live, as I knew his soul was going home. I begged God to spare him suffering, I begged to feel him pass. I wanted his spirit to come to me, and out of nowhere, I felt a surge of energy around me, feeling his energy on top of mine. In that moment I was engulfed with him and joy was all that I felt, yet, I was sickened as well, knowing he was passing into another world.
When his spirit was led from mine, I soon knew and realized he was not of this world, and, I lay in the darkness in awe of what I had felt. Then, I slept, knowing my life would forever change when the sun came.