I don't own KP
I opened my eyes. I never remembered opening them before. I knew I was died. I don't know how I knew; I just knew. I didn't remember dying. I didn't even remember living. I didn't even know what was going on.
"Greetings," an illustrious, beautiful voice said.
I turned and saw it's owner. He was an angel. Don't ask me how I knew what an angel was. I just knew, like I knew that I was died. He was warring a grey cloche that reached to his feet. His wings were as black as a raven's and each one had a length that matched his height. His face shone with great countenance that would have blinded a mortal human being, but I was no longer mortal.
"Who are you?" I said.
My voice sounded odd because I never remembered using it. But if I never used it, how'd I know how to speak? Perhaps, in death, knowledge is universal. I do not know the answer to that question, so I won't try to answer it.
"Some call me: The Angel of Death," he answered, "But I prefer to be called "Andrew"."
"Where am I?" I impolitely asked.
The fog that I did not notice before disappeared. Through the fog that was left I could see a house. It was a very nice, mid-sized house. It must have been owned by a fairly wealthy family. But it was quiet. To quiet.
"This was to be your home," Andrew told me, "It's residents can not see or hear you, for your are no longer alive."
I nodded and walked through the green door of the home. I found that I didn't need to open it, for I could walk strait through anything. Once inside, I saw a beautiful red-haired women who was somewhere in her mid-twenties. And she was crying. Her green eyes were filled with tears. Somehow, I knew exactly why.
"Is that women my…" I struggled for the word.
"Yes," Andrew answered me, "She is your mother, Kimberly."
To my surprise Andrew put his hand on her shoulder, but my mother didn't seem to notice. Somehow, I knew that she was my mother; but, to my frustration, I couldn't remember her. Not one memory of this wonderful woman. Wonderful? I didn't even know her.
"Honey," said a soft voice.
I knew it wasn't Andrew, but the voice sounded so angelic, so comforting. I turned and saw my dad. He was a man with tousled, blond hair and he wore a "crushed" look on his face. Crushed. That's the only word that I think could describe that look. My mother turned to look into his hazel brown eyes. They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Well, it would have seemed like an eternity to a mortal. Believe me, it was nothing like real eternity.
"Ron," my mom said, "hold me."
My dad did as he was asked and said, "I'm so sorry. I know this hurts for you. It hurts in a way I could never hope to understand. But I want you to know: I've got you. I've got you, Kimberly."
I turned to Andrew and asked, "What happened to me? Who am I?"
"I hope you don't mind if I answer those questions backwards," he replied, "Who are you? Your name is Jacky. You were their child. Their second child. Your older brother, Donald Curt Stoppable, is sleeping upstairs."
I rushed upstairs to see my big brother. When I found his room, Andrew was already there, looking at him in his crib. The sleeping baby had mom's red hair. He was only about a year old; but, in my spirit, I looked about the same age as my parents. It felt very odd.
"How'd I die?" I asked, not wanting to beat around the bush anymore.
"You died while you were still inside your mother, that's why you don't have any life memories," Andrew said, "I'm very sorry."
"You don't sound sorry."
"I am, once again, sorry. I've seen every death that has ever happened, so I'm barely phased by this shock. I am not the one who took you. God chose that you would die now. I do not know, or understand, why. But I do know that He knows best. I am good friends with the Stoppables guardian angels, so I know they do not deserve to go through such pain. But God says that they must go through this pain, for his own reasons. I do not like it, but I can not question God? Who can?" He paused,"Now, come to the after-life. One final time, I am sorry."
I took one last look at Don, then followed Andrew to where he'd take me.
—a year later on earth—
Andrew decided to pay the Stoppables a visit, to see how they were adjusting to their loss. He saw Kim typing something on her computer. He took a closer look and saw that she was writing a novel.
What Kim didn't notice, other than Andrew,was Ron sneaking up on her. After she turned off her computer and stood up, he wrapped his arms around her. She was surprised at first, but that quickly disappeared. The romantic moment was interrupted by a crying baby.
"Your daughter is crying, Ronnie," Kim said lovingly.
"Before three O' clock she's your daughter, KP," Ron answered.
"Oh, come on, Ron. It's five minutes 'til," she pouted, "Pwetty pwease."
"Oh, all right," he said, but before walking away he continued, "How come, after knowing you for over twenty years, I still fall for the "Puppy Dog Pout"?"
"Because," Kim said playfully, "you know I'll reward you if you do."
Ron smiled, kissed her gently on the lips, and left. Andrew took one look at Kim and understood why God took Jacky away. Kim now appreciated the children she did have more then ever before. Don and Pim Stoppable meant everything to her, and so did her husband. Andrew would have liked to stay, but he was a busy angel. On his lips creased a very rare smile.
Before I was born, my parents lost an unborn child, Jacky (they didn't even know if it was a boy or a girl). What my dad finds ironic is if Jacky hadn't died, I wouldn't have been born. Hope you liked this one. Please R&R.