Nothing to be scared of.

When i die i know some people will cry, some will pretend to care,  some will remember i existed for a while.  They will have eulogies that says how good i was and that they will miss me. 
Death isn't so bad.  What comes after it?
I would talk about how i believe in reincarnation forefront, and almost make myself really believe that it is what will happen.  But deep here in my consciousness i always picture pitch black. Pit of void. Endless everywhere of nothingness. We just cease existing. But it is so hard to accept that we will just stop existing and come about in the end with nothing,  so we believe in every afterlife ideology smart and spiritual people comes up with.  We wanted to believe that death is not the end. I almost wished i believe the same.
I wondered how it feels to stop existing, i guess you don't feel anything,  feelings also stop existing in death,  so you do not really know how it is.  Nobody really died and lived to tell the tale. I think the time of unconsciousness like in our sleep is what death really seems like except it goes on forever,  no mornings, no heartbeat,  no breath and your body rots slowly in the ground and becomes part of the soil and you never know, feel, see, hear anything forever. You're just gone. Every people you met,  places you've been, memories you kept all gone.
The soul,  it is the one that continues in the after life as they say it, whether it goes to another body and reincarnate or goes to hell or heaven.  I know i have believed i have a soul, i have been brought up to believe so, but i do not know anymore . I can just be a body made up of tissues , muscles and bones that will eventually die and rot.
Even your memories in people's minds start to vanish slowly, eventually they will forget. They will cry for you for weeks maybe, regret the words they haven't told you, pity your loss but eventually they will move on and forget.  Because it is nature.
And after death,  same as how your life halted,  the memories of you left in people's mind shall slowly disappear too. everything you are and every bit of evidence you walked the earth will be gone,  forgotten if not unrecognized.  And that is when you are entirely and truely begone. You're simply done.
Death itself is nothing to be scared of. It just means that your time is up, you need to go. I guess having not enough time is what is scary, and the pain in between passing from having a heartbeat into having none.
We are all going. Everything we ever had and acquired will be in nothing too. I think all we are ever going to have is that brief moment before we crossover into the void of nothingness,  where you realize if your life had been everything you'd ever hope for. And fortunately it is, because by then there is no going back.

Walk with me.

I don't know if my senses are fooling me,  if my mind has taken the best of me but i feel it. I am never ever sure if i dreamed it,  if i have seen it or if i imagined it.  I guess no matter how much i think i know my reality and the difference it has with dreams and illusion it still escapes me. There are still hazy memories or it could be a dream or just a vision or maybe my brain made it up and for some unknown reason i can't distinguish what is real.  It played over and over in my mind that i feel it physically happend, or––i might have only effectively convinced myself it did? but it is blurry and dreamlike so maybe i just imagine it?
It is hasty and blurry at edges of vision, but i am aware i'm in a street,  gray dry cement stretching far ahead with trees and grass all in lively green swaying in the direction of the wind.  It is not hot or cold,  not humid nor scorched but it is cloudy with rays of sun escaping from edges of clouds and striking through holes and sides of the leaves and branches of trees creating this sharp rays of sunlight while soft wind blows in my face and hair. I am walking,  i have no direction in my mind,  i am taking steps by steps, one foot after another. As i have always done in my life, i walk alone, always alone. I always choose solitude in every journey,  i seek no company for times such as this.  I have my certainty and peace walking alone straight ahead as i always have and i believe always will. It feels very familiar,  the walk,  the air,  the solitude,  the peace, it is comfortable. I see people passing by me but never taking the time to glance at me,  why would they? i do not know them they do not know me,  makes perfect sense.  I am somewhere busy with crowds and cars all doing their business.  I am turning my head sideways to see different angles of everywhere and i felt a pull in my hand like another set of fingers touched mine and i halt.  The hand holds mine in a way as if it has been holding it with too much familiarity.  It was warm and rough with callouses, i know i should be nervous for all the right reasons but i feel nothing if not curious. I turned my head to the direction i anticipated the owner of the hand will stand and he was there,  smiling.  I have never seen his face before, he is fair cream color, has dark ruffled hair blown by the wind, thick set of strong eyebrows,  dark eyes squinting from rays of sunlight.  I stared at him hard, my gaze traveled from his face to his chest,  to his abdomen,  to his groin,  to his knees to feet back up to his extended arm and rested my eyes to his fingers holding mine.  I know i should have pulled back but i didn't. I should speak to ask but i didn't. I should think reasonably but for some incompetent reason,  i didn't.  Not because i can't but more because i don't want to. His hands felt warm not only in my hands but travels in my arms and in other parts of my body,  i feel warm all over. I was breathing through my mouth and staring,  just staring, dumbfounded i suppose is what i look like. I was frozen but it didn't feel wrong like it was suppose to be. I looked at his face again,  he was still smiling,  was he mine?  I feel his hands tighten around mine and speak.
"can i walk with you? "
Why will he want to walk with me?  I think. 
I can't let him.  I always have walked,  and will walk alone.  I choose to.
I don't want him with me. Do i?
I know people,  they never intend the meaning of the words they speak.  How different is he?
They never understand the clarity behind solitude and he won't.
I didn't speak and keep silent.
He is no longer smiling but he is still holding my hand,  tighter this time. He just stared at me the same way i stared at him.
I wonder what he thinks.  How this is not odd to him and is incredibly odd to me.
I stare in his eyes to see if i can peek in his soul,  i can't.
So we stand there,  staring.
And i covet with every ounce of my strenght,  every strand of my soul that he was mine and that he can walk with me.

I hope it is real,  a memory. My hope was almost stronger than the persistent logic that it was a hasty dream. But i am holding on to that dot of adamant possibility it was a memory trapped in my dream,  if such things happen.