Bullets whizzed above me. There was little to do but dive to the ground. Branches began to fall all around us. My sergeant was yelling something, yet I couldn’t understand what he was saying. Something splashed my face. For a moment, I thought I’d been shot. That was until I turned to my right and saw my comrade lying motionlessly beside me, his face was buried in the dirt.

  I looked up, ready to return fire when I saw myself in a mirror. A young man in uniform, one who had joined the military to fight for his country. What was a mirror doing in the middle of a battlefield?

  That’s when I realized. This was a dream.

  I woke up staring at the empty side of my bed, where my wife, Jennifer, used to sleep. She had died two years ago at the age of eighty-two. She had been two years older than me and now I was the same age. She had been my rock I had nightmares about my time in Vietnam.

  Usually I would wake up sad, knowing I would never see her again. Today was not like that and it didn’t take me long to realize why. I was going to die today.

  I could feel it in my bones. Today was going to be my last day alive. Why did I know this? It was something I briefly thought about before shrugging. The reason didn’t matter, after all, I wasn’t going to wake up tomorrow.

  With a sigh, I got up and did my morning stretches. Since my wife died, my nightmares of fighting in Vietnam had returned with a vengeance. I never realized how much she kept those nightmares at bay. The dreams had gotten worse lately. It was comforting to know this would be the last time I had such dreams.

  It was odd knowing I was going to die today, yet I didn’t care. The thought of today being my last day alive didn’t scare me. I was curious what would happen when I died. Some people believed nothing happened, while others believed you would go to heaven or hell. Would I see my wife again when I died? Would nothing happen? I would find out soon, or not if nothing happened.

  Luckily, I already had plans to see my son, daughter and grandchildren. I was glad that I could see them one last time without being suspicious about it. Coming up with a reason to see them without much notice would have been more difficult. I wouldn’t give them any hints about my fate, that would only cause them distress, though I suppose they would feel that way regardless.

  I need to leave a note before I go to bed today. I didn’t need someone to walk into the house and see a dead body, at least not without a warning. Hopefully the person who sees the note doesn’t get traumatized by seeing my body. What else was I to do? Do nothing? I shuddered at the thought of my twelve-year-old granddaughter running into my bedroom, only to find me dead. My children had a key to my house and were able to go in and out as they pleased, which wasn’t common.

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  I grabbed a pen and wrote down a note. This was too important not to do and if I forgot, there wouldn’t be another chance. When I opened the closet to grab a pen and paper, I saw my old uniform from when I served in Vietnam. Some saw pride when they saw their uniform. Perhaps, if I had been born earlier and fought in World War II, I would feel the same.

  It wasn’t that I hated the military, it was just something I didn’t enjoy seeing. I lost so many friends to that war. Let alone, when I returned from my deployment hadn’t been fun. People weren’t happy to see us. Best not to dwell on the past, not on my final day.

  After writing the note, I put on my coat and walked out the door. Today was going to be a good day. Normally, I would have taken a long walk and eaten something healthy. Today I was skipping the walk and going to eat as much crappy food as possible. What was the point in eating healthy today of all days? With a smile, I got into my car and drove off.

  Night arrived. I arrived home at around ten p.m. exhausted and ready to sleep. I made sure not to tell my family that today was my last day. I’d tried to act as normally as possible. I’m not sure if I succeeded. I’m pretty sure my son was looking at me funny. At least the food was good. It felt nice to cut loose and not worry about my diet.

  My granddaughter asked me why I was eating fried chicken. It used to be one of my favorite things to eat, but it was something I swore off as I grew old. She bought my excuse as wanting to see if the chicken tasted as good as I recalled. It tasted pretty damn good if I say so myself.

  It was a strange feeling to walk into my home for some reason. I had lived in this place for over forty years. There were signs of age. The walls needed to be painted, though that was going to be someone else’s problem.

  Not far from the front door was a small desk, with the note informing whoever found it about my death. It wasn’t close enough to the front door, so I moved it closer. The front door would be able to open, and it would be impossible to miss the note right in front of them.

  Satisfied, I walked toward my bedroom. There was no point in brushing my teeth. The last day of my life had been a good one. Not many got to go out so peacefully. The moment my head hit the pillow, I started fading. Was I always this tired when I went to bed?

  My body felt heavy. It was strange how calm I was. This would be my last time closing my eyes. This was the last time I would open them to this room. I wasn’t nervous, I wasn’t scared, nor was I excited. I felt strangely at peace.

  Darkness was approaching fast. These were likely my final thoughts. Strange, there’s nothing I can really think about. It’s almost as if I don’t have the energy to think about anything at all.

  A weird voice began talking as I got closer and closer to sleep. What was that sound? Who was speaking? I’d never fallen asleep to the sound of another voice before. Was I going mad? Perhaps this was what happened to everyone right before they died. Then it was over. I was dead.