After My Death, Mom Destroyed the Family

Before long, the lavish meal that my parents prepared was served on the table. They sat around the table with Peter and my older sister. They were laughing and chatting. This kind of lively atmosphere had never happened when I was around.

They were so happy that they did not notice that the neighbor’s dog, Bandit came in. It crept toward the plastic container that was holding ashes and sniffed around because it was intrigued by the scent.

Perhaps it was the smell of my bones that caught its attention. Its eyes gleamed with excitement as it grabbed the container in its mouth and bolted down the stairs.

Meanwhile, the family inside sipped on their drinks, still oblivious about what had happened.

"Woof! Woof!"

Bandit trotted over to the neighbor’s five-year-old daughter, Emma. It carried my ash container in its mouth in a proud manner.

With her child innocent, Emma snatched my urn from Bandit. She then popped open the lid and began pouring my ashes onto the ground for the dog.

Bandit wagged its tail in glee. It quickly licked my remains with gusto, leaving almost nothing on the ground.

When I glanced at the plastic container, it was already empty, except for a few traces of what was once my body.

As the sky darkened and storm clouds gathered, Emma pulled Bandit along heading toward their home. On her way out, she accidentally kicked over the container and spilled what little was left of my ashes.

Whoosh.

A torrential downpour began, washing away the last remnants of my physical form from this world.

It seemed even the heavens had no mercy for me.

This was the third day after my death. I had witnessed my body being completely erased from existence. My tally of tears from loved ones remained at zero and there were still twenty-seven days left until the game was over.

The fourth day after my death was Sunday and it was also a Mother's Day celebration.

Early in the morning, both of my sister and brother left the house. My mother was full of excitement. It was very unusual for her to be in a cheerful mood like this.

Recently, my sister asked her to choose from a series of photos of gold bracelets and pick which one she liked the best. My brother had also inquired about what women her age usually preferred. Clearly, they were planning something special for her.

With a light heart, she hummed to herself as she did the housework. She was eagerly anticipating the gifts that my older sister and brother were surely preparing. As noon approached, she finished cooking a lavish meal, convinced that today would bring her a wonderful surprise.

However, just before lunchtime, my sister informed her that she had something urgent to attend to and could not come back home for lunch. Then, not long after that, my brother called her with the same excuse.

“These two... they must be planning something big, that it's taking so much time!” my mother murmured to herself, still smiling with anticipation.

Feeling optimistic, she packed away the meal she had prepared, saving it for later and settled for a modest lunch of plain rice by herself. It wasn’t what she’d hoped for, but she was certain that an even bigger surprise was coming.

Hours passed and as night approached, she waited eagerly, expecting her children to return home any moment. However, instead, she received another round of heartache. Both my sister and brother called to tell her that they wouldn’t be coming home tonight either.

Just as her excitement began to fade into disappointment, the doorbell rang. In her rush, she ran to the door, thinking her children were finally back.

"Isabella, Daniel, are you two trying to surprise me? Mom …."

However, the moment she opened the door, her voice came to an abrupt end.

Standing there was not my sister or brother, but my best friend, Lizbeth Sanford.