Live your Live to the Last second

The obituary page had my name and photo in it. It wasn't too good a snap of
me, I thought, as I looked at it absent-mindedly. And then I gave a cry of
terror, "What's my photo doing in the death column?" I remembered, sharp
chest pain last night. I looked around, it was morning but my coffee had not
been made. People were entering the house and walking through the bedroom
door. I walked in and looked on the bed. There I was, all laid out dead.

People stared at me, not many were crying, and some, I noticed, looked
relieved. "Listen," I shouted, "I'm here, I'm okay, I'm not dead." Nobody
heard me. They were all looking at the me on the bed. I walked back into the
sitting room. The coffin had arrived. It was being set up in the center. I
watched them carry my body and put it in.

"I'm not ready to go as yet," I shouted, "I still have work to do. Don't bury
me, before I'm ready!"

I looked around. "Where's my family?," I asked myself. They were in the next
room, weeping. "I'm not dead," I shouted to my wife and children. They
continued to weep. "How can I go before telling you I love you?," I asked my
wife. "How can I go, before hugging you both?," I asked my children. I wept
with them.

The singing was coming from the next room. I walked in as they sang my
favourite songs. There were tears in the eyes of one of the men as he sang.
"But we haven't talked to each other for years, "I said to him. "Why are you
crying? Come on, shake my hand and let's make up." The man continued crying as he sang. He did not see my extended hand.

My dog walked up and smelt my coffin. She didn't seem too shattered I was no
more. "I guess I was too strict with you," I told her, "Come, let me pet
you." The dog yawned as it stretched out and fell asleep.

The singing stopped as the priest came in. He sat next to the man who was
crying and leaned to talk to him. I went close to hear what he was asking.
"Is there anything good," he asked, " the dead man did in his life time?" The
man who was crying shook his head sadly. There was a hush as my wife walked into the room.

"She looks beautiful," I thought. "You look beautiful!," I shouted. She did
not hear my words. She had never heard them before, because I had never said
them.

"God!," I screamed in agony, "A little more time to do all the things I
should have done!" I watched as they lifted my coffin and carried it to the
hearse outside. My dog did not bother getting up from deep sleep. The priest
refrained from saying any word about me. They all understood, there was
nothing good words to say. I turned to say sorry to the man who had the
tears. I turned to hug my children. I leaned over to whisper words of love
into my wife's ears, and then I looked up and cried, "God, one more chance!"

"You shouted in your sleep," said my wife as she gently woke me up. "Did you
have a nightmare?" She looked startled, as I hugged her tight and whispered,

"You're beautiful... !"

thanks to Ranjan Jain