Letter to the living

I watch you from the skies above and weep for you. Don't weep for me.

Here, pain doesn't exist. Torment, however, washes over me and grips me. I'm a soul full of sorrow.

Death has ripped me away from you, criminals have torn my body apart, but I know that they will no longer be able to reach me. While I am at peace, I fear for you, you who have been living in suspension.

From where I am, I can hear the cries of the wounded and their pain haunts the spirit I have become despite myself. I try to manifest myself in the flame of a candle to offer light to a grieving mother's heart, but to no avail. There are sorrows that only time can heal.

I had so many dreams, so many projects that were stolen from me and will remain unfinished. However, I know that someone among you will fulfill them, and that brings me joy.

Playing the saint during my lifetime was never my goal. I simply enjoyed my life, without bothering others, trying to leave a mark on earth. But here I am, swimming in the heavens, mourning those I love. I'm a wandering soul in search of justice. I'm a soul in search of truth.

Who says that the dead don't suffer when they leave us too soon? If heaven promises only joy and eternal life, know that there is a corner in the sky where the clouds are black and the rain is made of our tears. Who says that the dead don't suffer?

Sometimes I get the urge to haunt these criminals by turning into a ghost and making their lives miserable. Not for revenge - revenge doesn't exist here - but to protect you from their misdeeds and scare them, to make them understand that divine justice is terrible and omnipotent. They'll always run and hide on Earth, but they'll never be able to escape divine wrath here. In heaven, there are no doors or windows to run away to, no cellars or passages to hide in.

Don't blame me for still having feelings, for I have just died. I died on August 4, 2020.