You are reading this because the story of my life is something that should be retold. To you, to others, to myself once more. It is a love story, really. It is amazing and real, adventurous and kind. It will teach you things about yourself you never knew and it will break your fucking heart. My name is Arizona Robbins. I am thirty-one years old and I just died.

At first I thought that I was just in some really, really bad dream. I was on my way home from work, stuck in the same traffic on the same mile marker of I-95 that always seem to rape me of at least an hour and a half my day every evening. The commuters around me were in various states of restlessness and frustration, cursing with every slow press and release of their brake pedals. No hands were needed when we traveled this slowly and every day I always looked around to see how my fellow traffic jammers spent this painfully idle time.

There was JEQ-3411, also known as the middle-aged Caucasian man always clad in an uncomfortable looking business suit. His tag belonged to a navy blue Beamer, probably a 2008 or 2009. He spent his afternoons in traffic gabbing away on his Bluetooth earpiece. He would glance my way here and there, but never offered a smile.

GRF-1892 was a red Honda Civic and owned by the cutest old lady in the world. I had always guessed that she was in her seventies or maybe late sixties. You could tell, though, that she was cool. Her bumper was littered with years of stickers and magnets. Peace. Impeach Bush. Save the Environment. All You Need is Love. Definite hippie. She always waved a toothy grin to me and the others around her as she listened to her music and bobbed her head. That's how she spent this time. Then there were the workers in the big white trucks, same ones every afternoon. Always munching on a later lunch from the closest Arby's or McDonald's and drenched in sweat, grease, and mud. They always seemed nice enough.

And when I wasn't people-watching the cars around me, I would use my two free hands to text Callie an ETA of arrival at home. So much of my day was spent commuting and sitting in the slow, non-moving traffic. Some days I would get home so late that all I had time to do was eat, take a shower, and go to bed. I never got to see my wife as often as I wanted, let alone spend a decent amount of time with her doing something other than sleeping. Instead, we spent time with each other over the phone at work or via text in the car. I worked in Washington D.C. at the Capitol. And the only way into the city is to sit for hours, either on a train, a bus, or in your own car.

If you ask me on a bad day, I will tell you that it was Callie's decision to live in the city. We inherited a 200-acre farm from my grandmother when she passed away a few years ago. I'm a country girl and I wanted to move in there. We had miles and miles of trails through the woods, a pond to fish from, a place for a garden, fruit trees, nut trees, sunsets and the stars. To me, all of that and Calliope were the only things that I would ever need in my life. But, she had landed her dream job with the F.B.I. in Langley, VA and on a good day I will tell you that it was only fair to her that we move closer to where her dream job rested. But every single day, sitting in that mess, I would long so much for the country life. The life that we would never have.

I had just hit the 'send' button on my phone to text Callie when I heard it. It's the worst sound that you'd ever want to in your ears when traffic is moving this slow, because the only thing you want in the world is just to get home. Tires screeching and then a crunch. The pretty soccer mom in the black van that I always saw every morning and every evening texting with her precious iPhone had just rear-ended me. It had been a pretty rough jolt, but nothing like-threatening at all. Bitch.

But that's not what had done it. The fender-bender is not what killed me and prematurely ended my life. That took away my hopes and dreams and my one wish of growing old with Callie. I was stepping out of my car to exchange insurance information with GYD-4163 when a motorcycle, speeding through a lane that he had made for himself, slammed into my body and pinned me against the guardrail. I was conscious for what seemed like forever, in shock and without pain, as every moment of my thirty year-old life flashed before my eyes. And right before the impact, as if I knew what the outcome would be, I uttered the last thing I would ever say alive, "Calliope."

The last thing I remember is the cute old lady from the Honda Civic pressing up and down on my chest and blowing long breaths into my mouth. I felt her tears fall onto my face and then I was gone. That was twenty minutes ago. A lifetime ago. All I had wanted to do was go home. Callie had picked up crabs from the seafood market in the Burg. My favorite.

And now I find myself sitting on a small beach with my feet dug firmly in the sand, elbows on my knees and head in my hands. I keep staring at the small grains of sand that glisten between my feet, asking myself if any of this is real. My mind drifts quickly to my wife, wondering if she knows yet. We had come so far in our lives together, only to have this happen.

We met in high school and were best friends from the start. We complimented each other and Callie had brought out the best in me, in every way. Looking back now, I know I always loved her. As a friend, and more. We each dated guys, for different reasons. For me, it was because I genuinely liked them but for her, though, it was to fit in. Back then, I never hid the way I felt about her from the world. For Callie, it was a little harder. Small town, mean kids, conservative family. But I was there for her and I accepted her choices and I waited. I waited for her to be okay with it all. And when we graduated, we moved to Virginia, went to college and started our lives together. Happiness. Acceptance. And love. With Callie and I, there had always been love. The kind of love that you see in movies, the kind you wish for on a star, that kind that your soul craves. We always had that.

It is true that when you die, you get to see your loved ones that have long since passed on. I never really believed it, to be honest. The notion of it just always seemed too good to be true or too magical to be possible. You don't see everyone, though. Just one. One person who will explain everything.

For me, that person is my beloved grandmother. My Mom's mom. She's the one who taught me acceptance and fairness, the one who taught me how to fly. For so long, she was my very best friend. I bring a hand to my forehead to block the sun and I can see her walking towards me, barefoot in the sand. She's wearing her favorite polka-dot dress and the crooked smile on her face that I remember so well. When she reaches me, I can't tell if it's sadness or happiness that is stretched across her face. Still, my eyes grow wide with comfort to know that she is in presence right now for I have had the worst day of my life.

"Grams," I say under my breath as she approaches. I am reluctant and confused, but overwhelmed with joy when she hugs me.

"My dear, Arizona. I have missed you so much." She pulls back from me and smiles. "Though I do have to say I am not thrilled with our reunion." She is sad that she is seeing me, but the faint glimmer of excitement on her face tells me that she is happy at the same time. Then again, she always had that look in her eyes. Wary, but ready for the world.

I stand in front of her after our long embrace, staring aimlessly at the ground beneath me. I had so much to say and so many questions to ask. Still, my mouth seemed to fail me as no words ever came out. My grandmother must have sensed this as she spoke up.

"I've watched you over the years, you know."

Though it's small, I manage a smile.

"And you've made me so very proud, Arizona." She emphasizes the last few syllables just enough as to convince me of what she is saying. She always did that, though it was never necessary. Her words were always gold to me. And that is the only reason that I am not a mess right now, because she is here.

"And you found love, I see."

Seeing the woman in front of me had momentarily hindered my thoughts of Callie. Callie. She wouldn't survive this.

"Yes." It's all I can seem to say. Just a simple, sad yes. My mind drifts back to my wife. My adorable, beautiful love. Panic arises on my face and I am pulled back to my situation when I hear my grandmother.

"She is a wonderful girl. And lucky to have you."

"Have had me, you mean. Right grams?" My worried demeanor turns into an angry, sarcastic one very quickly. I saw every wish and want that I had in my mind, body, and soul in the span of about three seconds. Every regret too. I shake my head with fury as I try to mentally find a way around all of this. A way out. A way to go back.

My grandmother puts her arm around me and we begin to walk. The only reason that I let her is because her eyes made it very clear to me that I had no choice. You don't ignore the Grandma India look of the eyes. Not ever. No even, apparently, when you are dead.

The sand squishes between my toes and I wonder why I can feel these things. The sun in setting at the edge of the horizon to our left and I think it has to be one of the most beautiful sunsets that I have ever seen. We are both staring down as we walk when the woman beside me speaks up. Her arm is still around me, holding tight, as if she knows I how much I need it. And I do.

"Arizona, you heard me right the first time." We stop walking and she faces me. "But the last thing I want to do is confuse you any more than you already are at this moment."

I can only nod.

"I remember how angry I was when I was in your shoes a few years ago. I remember how many questions I had. You only get to see one person right after you die, you know. "

I furrow my brows at her, silently telling her to go on.

"Yes, the whole notion of being reunited with all of your loved ones after you take your last breath is all made up, really. My person was your grandfather. And if you can remember how much of a rambling mess he always was, then you can imagine how awful he was at making any of my first days as a departed soul easy."

She takes my hands and holds them in her own. For a moment, the smile in her eyes makes me believe it will all be okay.

"There are many things to tell you, my Arizona. But for now, I will tell you just two. They are the most important things you will learn from me right now and it is imperative that you remember them, live by them, and be them. Do you understand, love?"

"Yes, Grams."

"Good, then." She shifts her weight from one foot to the other and a quizzical look appears on her face as if she is unsure how to proceed with her words. "Right, number one. The story of your life begins now. "

"I'll explain later." She interrupts me before I can even open my mouth to ask her if I heard her correctly. I couldn't have, for that would mean that the things that are the most important to me don't belong in my life. That couldn't be right. I made a mental note to fact-check my grandmother once she was done with her speech.

"Number two," She looked me square in the eyes as she always did when it was important that I listen to her as my life depended on it. "Everything that you thought you knew about what happens when you die is wrong."