I am a singer, and I sing for special people—those whose time have come to bid goodbye to the world of the living. I sing for them so they can leave in peace.

Now this is the story of how I become a singer. I have to tell you because otherwise how would you know? Your world is different from mine—the living do not mingle with the dead.

So here is my story ...

Long ago, Mama told me that I had a beautiful voice, like the nightingale, the song bird. It was the best day of my life.

Yes, it was important for me. It meant I mattered to her. Mama was always busy, she sang at a café, surrounded by men with money and perfume, those who took her away for days from me, leaving me in the care of my half-blind grandmother. I did not know for what purpose that she left us. Mama always said she would be "at work."

When she came home, she would smell like cigarettes and cheap perfume and other smells that I could not describe here. I would ask her about how her days were, and she would grunt and say something in between her breath, then she would sleep for hours and hours.

So when she said I had a beautiful voice, I was ecstatic. I sang the same song for hours, on repeat, the song she would always sing for me at night when I was younger, when she was always home to tuck me in for bedtime, when Papa was still around.

Now, sleep, darling, sleep...
You are done for the day
Tomorrow's a new one
Sleep, darling, sleep...
Don't be afraid
Close your eyes
Now, sleep, darling, sleep...
You are done for the day

One fateful night, my journey to be a singer began when a burly man—scary and smelly—barged into our dilapidated home. My grandmother screamed at him, and he was furious and screamed back,"Where is Cassandra? She owes my boss money and now she must pay! She has cheated on him too!"

He was looking for Mama, and Mama was hiding with me in the bathroom. We crouched next to the toilet, and she had her hands in front of my mouth to prevent me from making any noise. Her body shook in fear, I could feel her heartbeat when she hugged me. I gazed into her eyes and saw fear I had never seen before.

I heard outside the bathroom grandma shouted all kinds of curse words at the burly man as she tried to hold him off with two big cleavers that she flailed in the air.

Then Mama got an idea.

She stood up, pulled down the bathroom curtain, punched the glass window, and bleeding hands and all, Mama grabbed my hands.

We jumped out of the bathroom window, got in the car, and sped away.

All I could remember was speed, screeching of the tires, loud bang, massive headache, stinging pain, and screaming that came out of Mama's mouth and mine.

Please sing for me, darling. You have a beautiful voice ...

Mama grabbed my hands as blood trickled down her lips. I grabbed her hands tightly and I was not sure what to do but I started singing to Mama who was pinned in a weird angle by the steering wheel.

Now, sleep, darling, sleep ...
You are done for the day
Tomorrow's a new one
Sleep, darling, sleep ...
Don't be afraid
Close your eyes
Now, sleep, darling, sleep ...
You are done for the day

She faded away as the song ended. She closed her eyes, and she finally looked rested, for the first time since Papa left us.

I cried, I saw people try to help us. They got to Mama, but they did not even seem to see me.

And that was when I saw her.

A woman, an old woman to be exact. She wore all-black long flowy dress and a black cape with a black hood over her head. Her wrinkly skin was pale, so pale it looked luminous. Her silver hair peeked from behind the hood, and she had the blackest iris of the eyes that I had ever seen. Black, like bottomless pit.

Even though she was old, but her strength was amazing. She lifted the part of the car door that pinnned me down, and took me by hands. I just walked out of the car, just like that.

Holding her hands was like holding ice cubes in the middle of an Arctic winter. The coldness stabbed me direct in the soul and filled me with a certain dread, though the dread quickly turned to curiosity when she looked at me gently. I realized that I was not afraid of her.

Her eyes looked into my eyes, and she told me,"No, it is not your time to be with your Mama. Come with me."

The strange thing was this: I did not protest at all, I did not even think about Mama or who this old woman was or where she would take me. My mind just went blank, and I nodded at her.

She smiled, and her smile was hard to describe: It was not a happy smile, in fact I think it was a sad smile. A smile that seemed to float far away, hidden behind an invisible curtain.

So I went with her.

Her right hand took my left hand, and she led me away.

We walked on a straight road that was covered in fog, a road I did not recognize. All noises from the accident site died down, like all was swallowed by the fog. I could not even hear my own breathing, or the sounds of my walking steps.

Then I saw people.

Many people walked on that foggy road. Though the fog prevented me from seeing their face clearly, I knew I must have been dreaming a weird dream because from what I could see beyond the fog, some of these people were people I knew, and they had been dead for some time.

My neighbour who had passed away years ago from old age.

My great-aunt who had fallen ill and died when I was a young child.

Oh, and I even saw him: My childhood friend who died from drowning when he was swimming in the sea a couple years ago. He was only 14. His name was Ardi.

They all walked on the foggy road and they did not seem to recognize me.

The straight foggy road took us all to a river.

The river flowed fast, its water was dark and treacherous with swirling currents and massive waves. The river must have been so wide because I could not see the other side's riverbank from here.

The old woman stopped walking at the riverbank, and I stopped too.

"Where is this?" I finally mustered enough clarity of mind to ask a question.

The old woman sighed, and looked at me with that sad smile of hers. "A port, darling. It is a port."

"What port? These people ... I know some of them. They are—"

"Dead. This port is where these people have to wait for the boat that will take them to the other side, to the afterlife."

I froze.

"Why are we here? And-and who are you?" I asked, I did not want to know the answer because I knew what it would be, but I asked anyway.

The old woman stared at the river, then she turned her head, staring at me again. "I am what you human call the angel of death. I am not really an angel though. I am more like a-a guide. A guide for a long journey. I help dead people find their way to get here. Then here, they will all wait for the boat that will take them to the afterlife across that river."

I tilted my head, trying to stay calm. "So I am dead? I have to cross that river too?"

"It is not your time to cross the river yet, darling. I need you for an important task. But ... I bring you here to help you have closure before you start your new task."

"Closure? What for?"

The old woman smiled, this time it felt slightly happier. "That boy there," she cocked her chin to the direction of Ardi. "Say what you need to say to him. Today. For there will be no other chance, ever. You get a second chance, so use it wisely. Eternity is a curse when you have important words still left unsaid."

I was shocked. "How-how do you know?"

She bit her wrinkled lips. "I know a lot of things, darling. I know there are things you have always wanted to tell him, and you have cried silently in your heart ever since the day he left the world of the living."

Ardi. My first love. I had always had a major, major crush on him since we were six years old. I thought he liked me too. We would exchange silent glances and sheepish smiles whenever noone was watching. My friends would make fun of plain boring me if they knew I had a crush on the most handsome boy in school. So I kept it quiet, though my heart screamed for his name everytime I saw him, but I kept my silence for the sake of whatever shred of dignity I had in my friends' circle and to protect him from teasing by his circle of friends too.

But today we both were dead, and it seemed like I would not be getting on the boat to the afterlife yet. So I had nothing to lose anymore.

"Go. We do not have much time," the old woman patted my back.

I bit my lips, trying to psych myself to go and see him. Ardi looked so pale and thin, then his eyes caught mine. He looked at me with wonder at first, like he could not believe his eyes that he saw me there too.

I walked in little, unsure steps toward him. He walked closer to me too, never taking his eyes off me.

It took some time before we both stood face to face, an armlength away, in the middle of a crowd of dead people.

"Hey," was what he said. My heart was elated in joy upon hearing it. I had missed that voice so much!

"H-hey," I answered, trying to maintain some sort of composure.

He sighed, his eyes looked sad. "So we are dead."

I nodded.

"Good to see you again, Lena."

"Good to see you too, Ardi."

"Are you going to cross the river with me?" he asked with a tilt of his head.

"No-not yet, at least."

He nodded. "I guess this would really be our last meeting then," then he continued,"That river is the one that brings dead people to the afterlife. I heard that once dead people cross that river, they would not even be able to visit their loved ones in a dream."

I nodded though I was unsure what I was nodding to.

"I thought about you a lot, Lena."

My heart thumped hard within my chest cavity. He thought about me. "I thought about you a lot, too." That was an understatement honestly. Ardi, his face, his smile, his bright eyes, his cheek dimples, filled my mind day and night, building blocks for my nonstop daydreaming and my worlds of make-believe.

"I am sorry—" he stammered.

"Why?"

"I-I let my pride and worry about what others would think got in the way of-of getting to know you better. I like you, Lena. A whole lot."

"I did the same, Ardi. I like you. I like you a lot, since when we were kids. Remember? You helped me get my ball that rolled and fell in the river behind your house? Since that rainy day years ago, I have decided that you mean the world to me."

Ardi nodded. The sadness grew thicker in his eyes. "It's tragic, isn't it? Us. We are dead, nothing much we can do about it anymore, and we find out how we feel about each other." He paused, shut his eyes, opened it again, and continued,"Well, might as well. Nothing to lose. I do not just like you, Lena. I love you."

I burst in soft sobs. Dead people could cry, I confirmed that now.

"I love you ..." I whispered as best as I could between my sobs.

At that, Ardi smiled. A serene smile, a smile that was so peaceful that it made me happy too. "Here, at the end of our journey, to finally know that I am loved by you the way I have loved you, I cannot ask for anything better, Lena."

My tears fell like autumn rain.

"We have to go, darling," the old woman stood right next to me. "Their boat is coming, and you come with me. Your new task is waiting."

Ardi nodded at me. "Go, Lena. Go and do what you have to do."

I rushed and hugged him. I hugged him so tight, his body felt cold, but he did hug me back.

"It is time we go our own separate ways. Goodbye, Lena," he whispered as he let go of his embrace and nodded at the old woman next to me.

"Goodbye, Ardi. Goodbye," I nodded at him, and my heart felt strangely lighter now. Ardi took a couple steps back, and smiled at me one last time before turning around and walking, blending again with the crowd of dead people, never to be seen again by me for all eternity.

I could feel the hands of the old woman on my shoulder, gently pulling me away from the crowd and we walked again, moving farther away from the river and the crowd.

My heart did feel lighter, like it was now emptied of the content that had weighed it down for some time. So I kept walking on the foggy road with the old woman next to me, and when the fog dissipated, I saw that we were back at the car accident site. It was night time.

But it was not the place I remembered. The road was different, there were now houses where it used to be just forest on the right and left of the road, there were more cars that looked so modern and sleek. I glanced at the billboard on the side of the road and saw the current year. The year was now 2024. My accident was in 1984.

"Forty years ..." I shivered. It felt like I had spent only a few minutes in the other realm.

"Time passes differently in the realm of the dead, darling," the old woman chuckled at my shocked reaction.

"Why-why do you bring me back here?" I asked.

"Well. First, you have now closure from that one thing that has weighed you down for years. You are at peace, I hope. I need you to be at peace so you can do your new task as best as possible."

"What task do you have for me?"

The old woman let out what seemed like a long sigh, and answered,"Sing. Sing with all your heart."

"Sing?"

"Yes. Sing. I have heard your voice, and it is so beautiful, so wonderfully calming that I think it will help a lot of people."

"Help people? How? I am dead. I have been dead forty years!" I shouted in annoyance.

The old woman looked up to the night sky, and spoke without looking back at me,"You will sing for people who are afraid, too afraid to let go."

I shook my head, I did not understand what she meant at all.

"Come," she started walking again. "You will see what I mean."

I walked again, and we passed by people but noone saw us. We just walked in what seemed to be a short distance, but I could see language change on the billboards that I saw. On what seemed to be a few minutes walk, I may have gone to two places with completely different language. Strange.

The old woman took me to a white building with ambulances and red cross in the front. A hospital.

Noone saw us. They walked past us and noone even flinched.

I could see the doctors and nurses were busy in a huge ICU room. Beeping of machines, various machines, with syringes, tubes, and all kinds of other medical equipments filled the room.

Patients laid on the bed, many seemed to be unconscious. All sorts of tubes and syringes and machines were all over their body.

The sick was in a great number. Some old, some young, some men, some women.

"Now, your task is to sing. Sing for those whose time has come, those who are losing their fight but too afraid to let go. Sing to the ones who are afraid, darling. Let them have peace at the end of their journey," the old woman took my hand, and looked at me straight in the eyes."The sick—they are alone, they are scared, they are fighting for their lives without their loved ones holding their hands here," she whispered to me, then continued,"But they are so sick, they cannot tell how scared they are, how much they miss their family, how hard they are fighting now. To those whose time has come, your song will help them find peace."

I understood now. I had to sing to calm these people down. They were fighting for their lives, and some fight, like Mama's fight for her life in the car that night years ago, had to be lost.

"Are you ready?" the old woman asked.

"What song should I sing?"

"You know which one. You do know, darling," she answered.

I nodded. Yes, I knew which song I would sing.

The old woman would guide me to these men and women whose time has come. She always knew which ones.

My hand took their hand, clasped it, massaged it. I let them know I was there, they were not alone in their last moment. Then I sang with all my heart, right next to their ear—

Now, sleep, darling, sleep ...You are done for the dayTomorrow's a new oneSleep, darling, sleep ...Don't be afraidClose your eyesNow, sleep, darling, sleep ...You are done for the day

Soon after, they gasped, they let go of their hard fight. They were at peace and done for the day, forever.

I sobbed when they passed on, and I moved on to the next patient. I held his/her hand, and I sang again with all my heart.

Death is not the end for me. It is the beginning of my new task.

I will keep singing. I will sing for all eternity.

I have a beautiful voice, just like a nightingale, just like what Mama said.

I am a singer, and my song is the song of the nightingale.