I sighed, again. I had lived a good life, and was happy here, but it nearly killed me again to watch my boys and be unable to interfere, to stop them…to help. Their lives got so much worse after I left them that I sometimes wish they had succeeded in bringing me back, just so that I could embrace them one last time.
There was someone new here, who seemed much too out of place in her youth. She could not have been more than four or five years old. I wonder how she died. My motherly instinct had not left me, and I felt the urge to go and talk to her. She just looked so lost and afraid, so blissfully innocent and defenseless that I had to protect her, so guide her way.
"Mommy? Daddy?" she asks, "Where are you?" She can't fully pronounce her R's yet. "Where am I?" She begins to cry. Why did one so young have to come here? I ask myself again. I finally get up the nerve and walk over to her.
"Mommy?" she repeats, obviously confused. "You look different."
"I'm not your mommy, little one, but I might be able to help you."
"I'm scared. What is this place? Where's Daddy?"
"This is the afterlife, little one. What is your name?"
"Nina." Nina. Why? Why did she have to be taken so quickly from the life she had so much longer to live?