They have unplugged Terri Schiavo. She's alive, but not living. Soon she will die of starvation as her body shuts down, and then her soul will be released to find its way in the universe again. I don't know how I feel about this, so I'll explore.

Once, I saw a possum that had been hit by a car. Its back half was completely crushed and as it pulled itself along the roadway, a foot of red, mangled intestine trailed behind it. As I approached with a stick to do what I felt was merciful, it snarled at me and threatened to bite.

----

"What are they doing?" I asked. My hands were shaking. I wanted a cigarette, but none were to be had in the land of the half-dead.

"They are going to unplug you," the improbably erudite possum said. "You are not alive to them."

"That's not fair." I felt the first real stirrings of fear. "They'll kill me."

"Relax." The possum climbed up on a stump and stared out towards the sunset. "You're not missing anything."

"But I want to live!"

"So did I, in 1987 when you found me along Highway 84. But I was in pain and you helped me and so I'm here to guide you."

"I'm not going to enter the afterlife following behind a possum." The wind in the trees overhead rustled the branches like a lover's sigh.

"Who do they think they are?" I was angry. The forest was calm. "I might recover!"

"There is no real brain activity and your spine is severed. Your lungs aren't breathing on your own and your heart has stopped twice since they brought you in. Your wife has given them instructions not to revive."

"My wife, oh God." I sank to my knees in the wet ferns on the forest floor. "She's going to be alone to raise the boys. How is she going to make it?"

"Your life insurance policy will last her for twelve years and see two of your boys through college. The youngest will marry young and skip college, deciding instead to start his own business. Eventually she will meet someone else and fall in love, and cry at her wedding when she thinks of you."

I stared at the possum in horror. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because in 1987 you were merciful when you didn't have to be. I wanted to cling to life. I wanted to crawl into the tall grass and hide but ants and buzzards would have found me. When you released me from my broken body I was free to rejoin the universe again."

"I don't want to become one with the universe." Tears fell freely. "I want to be with my wife. I want to see my sons grow up."

"From here you can do whatever you want. In time you may be sent back to learn more, but I can't predict what form you'll be. If God smiles on you, then perhaps you'll be a possum."

"I can feel myself dying." I flung myself facedown. The thick loam beneath the ferns and dead leaves smelled of ancient decay.

"We are more than the sum of our parts, friend." The possum turned its black eyes to me, wise beyond the keen of normal possums.

"Human souls, possum souls, tree souls. God cares for them all equally, but he would not deprive us of suffering in our life. You think in terms of software and hardware. Memory buffers are cleared, and registers are reset, but the soul lives on. There is a vast universe to explore, friend, and you can pick up where you left off before you lived a human life."

"She's going to be so alone," The sobs slowly stopped and I rose to my knees. Wet leaves stuck to the front of my shirt. "I can't leave her, possum."

"You will, but you'll recognize her when you see her again. Your sons as well. Their souls are on their own journeys."

"What's that commotion? I can hear them."

"Your heart has stopped again. Your body is fighting back and trying to keep itself alive."

"It doesn't hurt."

"Not from here, no. Your brain is already dead. All that remains is your mind."

"That's a distinction I've never drawn before."

"While you're alive, it's considered nothing more than a philosophical argument. Don't worry. All that remains is just meat. There's nothing of you left in that body."

"I feel it." A deep peace felt like my wife's warm leg thrown over mine in the middle of the night. "Please, God, watch out for her."

"He will." The possum seemed to smile. "He watches out for us all. Life is God's forge of the soul."

I looked around the forest. At first, I had been frightened of it. Of the dark places between the ancient trees. Now it seemed like home.

I turned to the possum. "Will you stay with me for awhile?"

"Of course," it said. "For a little while, but then we should get going. There is much for us to see."

We stood in the forest and watched as the sun rose in the sky to the east.