Death is inevitable. Whether it is for grass, trees, animals, humans, planets, stars, black holes, or the universe. For most, death is seen as the inevitable end. Whether you believe in the afterlife or not, you cease to exist in one way or the other. It is the constant. Everything, everyone, everywhere, dies. It is incredibly ironic that the only real constant in existence also contains the greatest question of all: What comes after death?

This is what I have studied for years. Today, I will answer this question. I will not be able to spread my knowledge to the rest of humanity, but I will know the answer myself and finally satisfy my curiosity of death.

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I woke up at the normal time, 0900 hours, got dressed, ate my last breakfast. The last of my eggs, the last of my bacon, the last of my pancakes, the last of my milk. I ate slowly, savoring the flavor of my final breakfast. At 1000 hours, I took my final shower. The soap suds through my hair and over my body representing my anxiety, my regrets, and my indecisiveness. I let the hot water wash it all away for the last time.

At 1100 hours, I put clothes on and walked outside. I look around me at the beautiful landscape. The towering mountains with snow-capped peaks smiling down on me as if to say "Have a great trip." The trees climbing up the mountains, stopping just before the peak because they climbed too high. The lake down below in the valley reflecting the beautiful landscape in an attempt to blend in. I sit down at the white bench on my front porch, sipping my last cup of coffee, and listen to the animals and insects sing to each other.

At 1400 hours, I retreat back inside and prepare my resting place. I write a farewell letter to the world around me, letting them know that I was selfish in pursuing my curiosity. I had taken it upon myself to learn what lies beyond. That if I was able to, I would let them know what lies beyond the great door. As emotional as it was, I wasn't scared. I was at peace finally.

I prepared a white rug of wolf's fur and spread it out flat on the hardwood floor of my living room, right next to the fireplace. In the middle of the wolf's fur rug, I placed my casket made of mahogany. I carefully stacked some maple firewood into the fireplace, but I didn't light it. If one day I return, I would light the fireplace and let the mountains, lake, animals, and insects know that I had succeeded in my travels to the other side. More importantly, I'd let her know. Wherever she is now.

At 1600 hours, I opened the cupboard above my oven that has remained empty except for one cup of water for the last 5 years I have stayed in this house, a packet of poison, and anesthetic to lay me down for my final sleep. I retrieved all three items and made my way to my living room where I have prepared my casket.

At 1700 hours, I pour the poison packet into the water. I inject the syringe of anesthetic into my blood stream. I drink my last glass of water, lay in my casket, close the lid, and drift into my final sleep.

1800 hours, I am dead. My body lay peacefully inside my casket, no one around my tomb. No one to mourn my passing but the air that can no longer enter my lungs.