From the Grave to the Cradle: My Morbid Stages of Change
"Certain", I thought. "It’s certain." Dark clouds covered my eyes. Black wool. Black cotton. Judgment day. I haven’t forgotten. I wiggled my feet under the covers and dreaded my fate.
Death had come for me, I was sure of it. I could see the devils. My eyes were a delicacy to them. They would eat my eyes. They would eat me! I clutched the mattress and studied my mothers shallow breathing to make sure it lasted. "She was supposed to protect me, but what if she went first?"
When I closed my eyes, I saw monsters with chewed, bloody appendages in their mouths. They had claws, black and thick, ready to puncture my flesh. I could almost feel it. I did feel it.
I was too tired to think about it anymore. Perhaps death would be a release. So, I let the shadows dance on the ceiling. I waited for it to come and fell asleep.
****
“Grandpa's dead.” Hmmm… that's mildly interesting. I ran my hands over the cool gray walls of our house. I took a shower. I had to prepare for school the next day.
The white foam swirled to the center and down the drain. It formed a bubble and I popped it with my toe. I felt nothing. Was this a dream? I pushed the wall to find out. I had read in a book that pushing a wall would help you determine that. The wall was sturdy.
This life was real. Real and dull. I closed my eyes and tried to summon some sort of emotion. The old man had been sick. He couldn’t even remember my name.
I turned the nozzle and the water was gone. Stragglers dripped down my legs and into the abyss. There were a few drops left behind. The few drops left in purgatory. The few memories I had rose to my throat in a single choked sob and nothing more. My grieving was done. “I'm a horrible person.”
******
"The sickly green walls go on to eternity, to heaven and hell" I thought. "It’s cold in here." I didn’t wear jackets.
My dad was there. His face was gaunt and touched with blue. The TV in the upper left corner of the room blared the day's winning lottery numbers. My dad turned it off.
Hugs. “Are you okay?” “I love you.” Tears. It was the first time I’d ever seen my dad cry. I cried, too. I cried for the oxygen tube in his nose. I cried for creases in his cheeks from the pillows. I cried for the families on the other side of the curtain who lost hope. I cried for the shattered indestructible image I once had for my father. I cried because I might lose him sooner that I’d expected. It was real, and it was incredibly disturbing.
Death was closer now. It wasn’t the shadows or the monsters or the serial killers I imagined whenever I was the last to go to bed. No, this was personal and cutting. The reality slashed through my heart.
"It’s cold in here. I need a jacket."
****
I hold my mom’s hand during our goodbye's. My flight will be leaving soon. I look at her face and am suddenly terrified. She’s so distant. Is she really my mother? Why does she look like someone I’ve never seen before except in dreams?
I hold her hand while she tells me to be happy like she always does. This might be the last time I ever see her. I feel that someone’s going to die.
She’s walked away now and I hold back tears. I will miss her. Or is it me who will be dead? Then she will miss me and I want to cry for her loss.
The terminal gets smaller and smaller and I wonder if anyone will be able to get through the opening. The tunnel blurs in and out of focus. I stumble and lose my balance. Is this a warning to not get on? “As I walk through the Valley of Death I shall fear no evil, for thou art with me.” I mutter to myself over and over.
The passengers next to me glare at me coldly. I really don’t want to die with these two at my side. Beastly creatures, surely this would be the plane to go down.
The fluorescent lights flicker, flicker, flicker. Might be a problem with the plane. I close my eyes because I’ve always wanted to go in my sleep. “The Lord is my rock, my strength, my deliverer.” I recite from one of the songs at my church.
But now, we’re in the sky. I worry for my mother and for myself and for everyone else on the plane. Then, I stop. Why should I fear death? It's just another change in my jumbled life. Why should I fear heaven? Perhaps this plane, gliding smoothly on the clouds, is taking me there. Someday, my mom will glide in this same air, too. To worry about when is a waste. I have to let go.
My grip loosens on the armrest. Everything focuses into perspective. My muscles relax as I surrender to a higher power. Like a child, I won't worry anymore.
I gaze out at the sunset at the pink and lavender. The surly passengers are no longer threatening. The flickering lights amuse me now. They're dancing for me. White lights, leading me home. Two more weeks until I see my mother again.
Warmth. I have nothing to fear. I rest my neck and am cradled by the headrest. I am enlightened. Lifted up, I close my eyes and can finally dream without nightmares.
