I will miss the feeling of air moving across my skin. When I die, I will miss the sensation of life moving through my body which is the combined energies and movements of all of the trillions of cells all interacting at once, birthing and dividing and dying and creating ATP and moving and converting one thing to another… all of the processes forming all of the steps that are necessary to sustain this body to be alive in this dimension in this world. I will miss breathing, consciously taking a breath in, that slow, soothing expansion of breath filling my lungs and raising my belly. I will miss emotions: bliss, ecstasy, joy, gratitude, excitement. I will miss the feeling of falling in love. The addict in me wants to say that she will miss that feeling-on-top-of-the-world feeling of first falling for someone. The building of the love, the is-this-really-happening phase, then once it’s confirmed by the words uttered, “I think I love you,” or “I’m falling in love with you,” or “I’m in love with you,” the first time those words are spoken aloud and the process that has begun, the mountaintop of emotion, that is further initiated by that happening between two people who are falling for each other is a feeling that I will miss when I am dead. I will miss orgasms when I die, the physical ecstasy of the building and heightening of coming to climax and finally it bursting open, flooding my body like a slot canyon filling with water from a flash flood, the pulsating throbbing orgasm through my being. The only thing greater is sharing that moment with my love, when he cums at the same time as me. I can’t remember looking into Dave’s eyes as we came together though… all I can remember is the things we’d be saying as we came together, the pornographic description of him talking about cumming in me that led up to that moment, our crying out together calling out our secret pet names for each other that sent us both over the edge of orgasm together. I remember the first time we had sex when I moved across the world for him after leaving my husband. I had been on a 30-hour trip to get to Asia, my new home, from the east coast of America. We took a bus from the airport together and I immediately started rubbing his cock through his jeans as we sat in the back of the bus, secluded. He discouraged me from touching his cock or having a huge make out session in conservative Asia. When we got back to the apartment, we showered together before he laid me down on the bed and very tenderly made love to me. I cried as he entered me, it had only been 3 months since I’d seen him, but the mountains I’d had to move to get from there to here on this bed 7,000 miles from my old home were monumental to climb. Here was my reward: coming home to him and him now laying on top of me, devouring me, every inch, as he exploded inside of me, my heart erupted in ecstasy as well as my body and I was rocketed into another reality where time stopped and all there was was our communication with each other on another dimension of emotion and physicality that transcended what we thought as real in that moment. We were in heaven together, we created it together, our own unique joining of spirit and body became one. I will miss that when I am dead.