There was no bright light. That part is bullshit. Actually, everything I have ever been told about death is apparently bullshit. I see no family members, no pearly gates, nothing. I just see the world as I have always known it. The point of view is just a little different.

I see my wife, Faith, her beautiful blue eyes issuing a steady stream of tears as she pulls the knife from my lifeless chest.

“You made me do it,” she whispers. “You know you made me do it.”

“I didn’t,” I say, but she can’t hear me. She wipes the knife off on my shirt and then throws it into a black trash bag. Then she puts my body into the bag.

Does she feel me watching? Does she feel my presence? No. She wouldn’t.

I watch as she drags the bag to the door. At least she seems legitimately sad about it I guess. As the clock strikes midnight, I see Faith grab the car keys and go outside. I hear the car start, my eyes still fixed on the black bag where my body lies.

A minute later Faith walks back inside. She leans over the counter top for a second and takes several long breaths. Then she wipes her blonde hair out of her eyes and starts towards the bag where my body now lies. She opens the door back up and begins to drag me outside. I start to follow.

As I reach forward and grab the door handle it moves with my hand, but only part of it. A glimmering white outline of it remains. I step through out into the night. As I step out I feel no change in temperature. Everything feels the same.

I watch as Faith loads my body into the trunk. I quickly move to get into the car before she takes off. As I open the car door, only part of it comes with my hand, just as the front door had.

Faith gets in the car and puts it in reverse. She takes a right out of the driveway. Where is she going? Where will my body lie?

After twenty minutes of driving Faith parks the car outside a house I don't recognize. She gets out of the car and walks up to the front door. I hesitantly follow her, interested to see who answers.

A tall man opens the door. Faith, who has stopped crying at this point says, “In the trunk.”

Without saying a word the man nods and begins walking towards the car. Should I follow?

I turn back and look at Faith whose eyes seem to be locked on the trunk where my lifeless carcass now lays. “Why did you make me do this,?” she whispers.