I don't really remember much about my time alive on the plane of existence living people reside on. All I really recall is the day I died… the wooden walls, my mother's cold face as she watched the light fade from my eyes, like she didn't care about me in the slightest… then again, it much have been hundreds of thousands, if not, millions of years ago at this point… at least my time here is more fulfilling that my time living. But, for some reason, I can't seem to shake the feeling of sadness I feel whenever I help someone cross over. Be it a little girl that just wants to be with her parents again, or a middle aged man who's lifestyle could have killed him years before, it still hurts to see them here. I guess my most recent soul, or should I say, soul's, really messed me up more than usual. It was two children this time. One boy and one girl. I saw what happened to them even from here… a drunk driver… absolutely heartbreaking to see such young lives being cut short because of someone else's actions… I helped them cross over, as is my job… purgatory really is a scary place, especially for children.