She always said she would die first.

I guess neither of us could have expected it, a mass shooting at my job and I happened to be behind the guy. I always tried to play the hero.

She didn't cry at first, and that made sense. She was strong, a stone Butch with the confidence of a knight. But the tears surprised her when the ceremonies and family visits were all done with. She was reheating some leftovers, and spotted my notebook on the counter.

Just tasks to get done, project ideas, nothing romantic, but she choked back a sob and scowled at it, the cruel reminder tearing down her defenses.

She seemed to age so much faster, the grey in her hair going from shooting stars in a black sky to pure silver within months.

I wasn't around to pester her about buying new shirts or socks, so she didn't get any, wearing holes in all her clothes, like a tiny rebellion.

But eight months later, the work ran out of overtime, and she didn't have a second or third job to spend her time on.

She watched movies, visited family, all with a numb calm air to her, but when she came home she actually pet the cats, and slept in our bed again.

I saw her browsing our pictures from fun trips and though she wasn't smiling, she wasn't angry.

The world was softening around her.

I rejoiced when she met up with an old friend, out in the woods on a hike. Their conversation was soft, but genuine, the mourning still fresh but I wasn't there to talk to and she was finally seeking contact.

Another friend, newer, stopped by with fast food a few days later, and stayed the night, talking and laughing, sleeping on the couch as she went to our bed.

But the sheets had been washed enough times to lose my scent, and the decorations I put up were just as much hers.

I was starting to fade, finding rest bit by bit.

This wasn't about me. The moment I died, none of the actions of the living were about me. I couldn't feel them. My name might feel like a spark but there was no tinder left in me to kindle the flame.

So I watched her, slowly finding what it meant to laugh again. I watched her first real smile since I'd left. A nervous broken thing that wavered and finally split into a grin.

Who did she love? A woman I'd met a few times, vastly different from me, and in a few small ways opposed to my past ideals, but it wasn't about me. It was about the living, and finally, they were finding the joy in life again, as I slipped away and went happily to my rest.

r/saryis is my personal subreddit, I try to repost my writings there after being posted elsewhere.

A long time ago I half jokingly told my husband " In the God awful scenario where we divorce or you die before me, I'm waiting until after Jenny is grown and out of the house before dating again. I've read enough reddit horror stories about abusive step parents and the parents not noticing haha."

Gosh i wish that idiot had listened. I watched him move on, it took a while. Stoic should have been his middle name. He was in full "Robotic Robert" mode as i used to call it. It was his coping mechanism and i understood it. Ya know, when I was alive and could take on the other burdens of parenthood and general adulting until he could come to terms.

But I wasn't there anymore and for the first month or two I would silently offer comfort. But by the third month i was practically screaming at him to get his act together. If I still had vocal cords, they would've been shredded. Our daughter was starting to think daddy didn't love her anymore and she was falling apart. He needed to be there for her more. Not just cook and go to work.

God, I knew I should've encouraged him to learn how to actually cook more. This man has had nothing but frozen meals, take out and pb&j for 3 months. Until Jenny got incredibly sick from one of the meals. I think that shocked him back into trying to live, not just survive. And possibly into realizing he needed to do better for Jenny as she puked on him just like she did as a baby.

His attempts at cooking weren't the best but he tried. He was burning or overcooking a lot of foods out of fear of Jenny getting food poisoning again. But he managed. Still not a lot of veggies in the dinners but at least he was trying. He and Jenny began to bond over cooking together and failed cuisine experiences.

3 years later he met a woman at Jennys swim meet. Maybe it was the fact that as a ghost all I do anymore was people watch and I had learned to read people but I didnt like her. Sure, it could've been jealousy but he'd met other women before that I liked for him and Jenny. In my mind she was Umbridge. Down to the pink wardrobe and hairclip.

It didn't take long for Umbridge incarnate to start asserting her dominance over Jenny after moving in. Then came the blaming her for everything, and accusations until it devolved into outright physical and verbal abuse. As this continued and Robert seemed disinclined to stop it, my rage grew. Did you know if a ghost stays angry for long enough it can affect the mortal plane?

And Robert fell for it every God damn time. Believed his new "future" wife's tears over our baby girl's bruises. The first time Umbridge had laid hands on my Jenny I cracked the bathroom mirror with a loud bang. It felt good, but not as good as watching the fear in that witch's face. I started torturing Umbridge every chance i got. I HAUNTED that woman until her mask cracked and she tried attacking Jenny in front of Robert over nothing. Robert finally cottoned on and kicked that disgusting pink monstrosity to the curb.

Afterwards, I made sure pamphlets for family and individual therapy kept getting into the mail or on the kitchen table. While I loved my husband I didnt need him to fall back into Robot Robert mode right then and honestly? He's not exactly the greatest with words. He got the hint after i broke his car in front of the therapist's office.

A couple of years later, and after Jenny had moved out to start her own life and family, I may have orchestrated for Robert to meet and fall in love with someone. I liked 'em Spunky yet kind. They made a wonderful grandfather to our grandbabies and partner to my husband. Robert and Sam got to realize their dream of living on a homestead. I couldn't have been more content with how life turned out for all of them.

So it came as no surprise when my door showed up to take me to the afterlife. With only a single glance back i leapt through the doorway. It was time for me to rest. Finally.

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