Have you ever been dead?

I wrote this last fall. I never had a plan for where it would go. I wrote more, but I never liked it as much as I liked this opening little scene:

“Have you ever been dead?” Sean asked me.

My instinct was to immediately say “No!” What a strange question! But I thought for a moment. I feel dead on a weekly basis. Not in a depressing way. It just is part of being alive. But he hadn’t asked me if I felt dead. He’d asked me if I’d ever been dead.

“No,” I answered, as if the answer could have been yes.

“Why did you hesitate?” he asked.

“Because you didn’t ask if I’d ever felt dead. You asked if I’d ever been dead. I haven’t.”

“Well, have you ever felt dead?”

I hesitated again.

“Why the hesitation now?” he asked again.

“Well, because I feel dead on a weekly basis… and that sounds depressing.”

“Is it depressing?”

“I don’t think so,” I replied. “Cause I don’t think I’m a depressed person. It’s just part of being alive. Parts of you die.”

“And that’s not depressing?” he asked, with a slight laugh

“Not really,” I said slowly. “Because parts of you have to die. Yeah, they’re parts of me that I love. But I don’t want them.”

This time he hesitated.

“You know,” he said slowly. “That makes a lot of sense. You can love something, and still really not want it in your life.” He paused again. “I guess part of you wants it. Cause when you remove it, it does feel like death.”

I smiled at him. He understood me. And how wonderful it was to feel understood! We sat in silence for a few moments. It just felt good to be with him.

At last I broke the silence. “Why did you ask the question in the first place?” I asked.

“Oh,” he said, and the corner of his mouth went up as he turned slowly to look at me. “Because I was dead once.”