This is the third part in a series, so if you have not already done so, you might want to read Part I and Part II before continuing.
Her husband wasn’t the only one Agatha encountered. Other friends and family members greeted her, happy to see she had waited for them. After a while, she didn’t even bother explaining that she wasn’t here by choice. She just let them believe whatever they wanted because it was easier that way. Besides, it wasn’t like they were going to be sticking around for long anyway.
And so it was that Agatha watched her son die.
Even with his last breath he was hoping he would see her again and Agatha could not believe he still hadn’t let her go.
“Mom!” He said when he recognized her. “I knew you’d be waiting for me.”
“Of course you knew!” The force of Agatha’s frustration surprised both of them. “You’re the reason I’m still here!”
“What?”
“You just couldn’t let me go, could you? You had the whole rest of your life to live, full of blessings and opportunities, but you wouldn’t see any of them of them because you couldn’t just face facts. Do you know how I know your life was full of good things? Do you know how I know that you ignored them? Because I saw it all. I was forced to watch as you let each one pass you by while you clung to a ghost.”
“I did that because I loved you.”
“Love! You call this love? Love is selfless. Love is giving. All you did was feel sorry for yourself. And you kept me trapped here while everyone else got to ascend. Even your father. Did you even grieve him? Did you ever think about all the things he gave up for you?” Some part of Agatha realized the hypocrisy of berating her son for not letting her go while also berating him for letting his father go too soon, but she was too full of all the things she hadn’t gotten to say to her son the entire time she had been trapped by him. They came pouring out now in such a torrent that she didn’t even realize they were both ascending while she ranted.
While he had held onto the memory of her for the rest of his life, there was no one left to hold onto his memory.
The end.