“Yes, I lost everything but the pain.” “I don’t think that is true,” I said to the ghost. “You have so many beautiful qualities that you have displayed to me in this short time. Manners, kindness, compassion, humility, awareness, if that all stems from pain, then either pain is not a bad thing or pain is just a part of everything.”
A ghost walked past, a flicker of light, a slow-moving motion of white, I saw him, we caught eyes, he formed the shape of man, I asked him, “Are you a good ghost or a scary one?”
“I can not control your perception of me” he replied.
“Yes you can, we all can, that’s what we do.”
“I suppose that is correct, but I also understand you may find me scary although I intend no harm.”
I wasn’t scared of the ghost now, because I knew I was smarter than him.
“How is it I know more than you?” I asked. “Where have you come from?”
The ghost put his arm on the ledge of the fence thing on the porch.
“I do not know all I know and I would not assume I know more or less than anyone as it’s a completely irrelevant form of measurement,” the ghost said.
“You know what I think it is, it’s because I am restricted by time, I measure everything, are you stuck in time?” I asked.
He thought for a bit, “I think so.”
“Are you stuck?”
The ghost looked sad; I changed my smart-ass attitude.
“Is there a way I can help you?” I ask the ghost.
“I don’t know,” he confessed. “I can only feel something, a fraction of an idea, but I could not tell you what that is.”
“I feel the same man, it's okay,” I replied.
“Thank you, but you get pleasure with your suffering.”
“Some say the pleasure is the suffering.”
“Hmm,” the ghost contemplated.
I invited him to sit in the chair opposite me, he glided in a human manner but didn’t have the body to pull it off. Sitting down gently, a wandering and wondering orb.
“How was your day?” I asked the ghost.
“It was a bit slow, but good, it was good.”
I sensed he had a trouble but pride and the false idea of bravery kept it within him. I kickstarted the party,
“I have felt pretty lonely lately, so it's nice to have a friend to talk to,” I said.
“Yeah, I am glad I am not the only one.”
“You’re glad I'm lonely?” I joked.
“ha ha, nah, but, just good to know there isn’t something wrong with me.”
I was speaking with a ghost, so I just spoke, “You know, I am feeling a bit emotional to be honest. I can sense a strong sadness within you and it is helping me assess mine.”
“Sorry,” he said,
“No, please. I am saying thank you, it’s nice to know we are all on the same team.”
“I think I have to find peace on this earth before I can leave it,” the ghost said.
I opened a bottle of wine, offered some cause I didn’t know, but he said no. I felt stupid but he found it somewhat charming and understood my position.
“What do you think is preventing that peace?” I asked.
“Guilt of committing suicide I think,” replied the ghost.
“Ah ok, I tried to kill myself when I was younger, my incompetence saved me. How did you do it?”
“I closed my eyes and crashed my car, I wasn’t sure what was going to happen, maybe I hoped god would show himself and silence all the pain I had, but I just died.”
“I am sorry you are still here, do you still feel the pain?”
“Yes, I lost everything but the pain.”
“I don’t think that is true,” I said to the ghost. “You have so many beautiful qualities that you have displayed to me in this short time. Manners, kindness, compassion, humility, awareness, if that all stems from pain, then either pain is not a bad thing or pain is just a part of everything.”
“But… the guilt.”
“Listen ghosty, do you mind if I call you ghosty?”
“My name is Craig.”
“Craig? What year were you born?”
“1993.”
“Same. Horrible name; Craig. I would have killed myself too,” I joked and he was too sad to laugh with me.
“What do you feel guilty about Craig?”
“I went to my own funeral, I saw the pain I caused everyone else. My suicide was like a suicide bombing except the bomb was emotional and only killed the ones who loved me.”
“You were doing the best you could, this life will break us all, you were lost and tried to answer a question, unfortunately, it cost you your body, but sitting and suffering, making yourself heavy with guilt, is only going to continue this story.”
“I deserve this pain for what I did,” the ghost said.
“For how long?” I ask.
“Eternity.”
“If that is how long it takes you, then so be it, but the world won't change either way. It's just you. C’mon Craig, you seem like an intelligent man, to carry the past with you in a negative light is a chosen chore. It is just boring in the end, it is not creative at all.”
“It’s just justice.”
“Justice has a wavering definition. Listen, what would your mum want for you?”
“To be alive.”
“No, what would she want for you, what is something you wish you did when you were alive?”
“To be happy.”
“Exactly, you still exist, your mum still exists, can you grant a wish for your mother, it's you who has that power, what a beautiful power.”
“I want to be happy because I'm happy, not just because I am pretending, to please my mother,” said Craig the ghost.
“Well maybe you can do it for her and realise it aint so bad after all, that the world is a little messed up but it's still a half decent playground. Gee, you're a ghost, go watch a girl get undressed, go listen to someone play the harmonica, go watch 40 movies for free, stand over the shoulder of a boy reading a Kurt Vonnegut book and read it together, live your life through others, let them feel your energy, be a friend to the world and you might realise you are a good friend, then you will be friends with yourself, who knows, maybe whatever is keeping you prisoner really loves you, wants you to experience everything.”
“Can I watch porn on your laptop? can you set it up for me?” Craig asked.
“Sure, can you wank?”
“I can try.”
So I set up the laptop in the bedroom and sat with him. It was a bit weird. I scrolled the pages and turns out he wanted a white man with a big cock having sex with a black woman. I played that and walked back outside. He walked with a bit of shame through the door without opening it. I could still hear the porn playing in the room.
“Thank you.”
“All good mate, I know the feeling and it's alright to blow one out when the head is racing.”
“No, I mean thank you for your advice, I do want to find life here, even though I am dead.”
“Me too Craig, me too.”
I showed him five songs I loved. He played one. The one they played at his funeral. We cried together. I cried so hard I could not see. When I wiped away the tears I looked to see Craig, but he was gone.
