I don't understand humans.
They eat, they sleep, they live, die. Every life is the same, give or take. You are born, you live, and you die. See? They're all the same.
In life, there are many things to find, and even more to lose: possessions, friends, yourself. Everything is temporary, as slippery as the lies that some many lives are built on. I am the only constant in their world, and they all know that deep down inside it's only a matter of time before I come and take everything away.
So why do they cling? Why do they hold on to the things they know will never last? Why do they hide themselves from the truth, knowing it will one day possess them? They lie, build barriers around themselves, and refuse to accept the truth for what it is. Everything they wear, everything they touch, everyone they love, everything will turn away and be gone.
And why, pray tell, did the boy not weep as we faded into the hospital room. Perhaps it was because he had no tears left to give.
The woman was there now, and the girl, too. The girl, Lila, was asleep against her mother's shoulder; maybe she was tired from the drive back to town, not yet comprehending the way her life had changed. The woman, Maggie, was awake, her eyes bloodshot and her face pale as moonlight. The father, Jack, was still asleep, wavering between the world of the living and the dead.
It was six o' clock in the morning, seven hours since Caleb Chesterton had lost his life but not his burden.
“One last stop?” said the boy.
“If you want it to be,” I said. “You can wander the world for the rest of eternity, if you want. Visit the pyramids, see the world change and grow, watch stars go out.”
“What's it like?” he said. “Watching everything change?”
“It gets boring after a while,” I said. “The world can only change so much.”
“I'm sorry,” he said.
“Don't be,” I said. “Go ahead. Go talk to him.”
“What?”
“Did I stutter?”
“No, but-”
“He's lingering between two worlds right now,” I said. “Talk to him. Tell him what's in your heart.”
The boy said nothing for a moment. He watched his family as if from behind a glass wall, fearing and loving them so much.
“I don't know what's in my heart,” he said. “I thought I did, a long time ago, but now I think I never did. Death?”
“Yes?”
“Do you know what's in my heart.”
I sighed, and looked at him with a fondness I afford to few humans.
“Darkness,” I said simply. “Anger, regret, jealousy, hatred, lust. There's sin, and it's a heavy weight. You lied, you cheated, you hurt, and in death, you stole precious things. But there's a lot of good in there, too, more than most humans, even. There's kindness, and forgiveness, and the courage to make right the things you've done wrong. You've taken responsibility for yourself, and very few humans can lay claim to that. For what it's worth, I think your heart is a strong and wonderful thing.”
The boy said nothing for a few moments.
“Thank you,” he said, after a while. “For what it's worth, Death, you're probably the best friend I've ever had.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Now quit dicking around and get on with it.”
The boy nodded, and slowly approached his father.
“Dad?”
Jack Chesterton turned to the ghost of his son.
“Caleb?” he said, his sallow eyes filling with tentative hope. “Caleb, you're here. You're okay, you're-”
“I'm here,” said the boy. “Dad, I just, I don't know where-”
“Don't say it,” said the father. “It doesn't matter now. We both made mistakes, son, and I think we need to just put them behind us. We can be a family again, and I won't screw it up this time. I'll do whatever it takes to make it work, but I promise I'll make it work.”
The father turned to the mother and child sitting in the chairs next to his bed. The girl was still asleep, her mother staring at the floor with tired eyes.
“Maggie? Lila?” said the father, his voice rasping a little. “Hey, how come they can't hear me? My voice must be shot.”
“Dad,” said the boy. “We're not exactly alive right now.”
“What?” said the father. “We're dead?”
“You're alive,” said the boy. “Well, you're wavering now. But me...Dad, I didn't make it. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but I think this is the last time you'll see me.”
For a few moments, the father said nothing, the shock of the moment registering, then the man's face contorted, as if to cry out in agony.
“Caleb,” he said, his voice croaking. “Oh, God, Caleb my boy...”
“Dad,” said the boy, placing his hand on his father's. “It's okay. I've been going around with Death...seeing things, remembering, learning. He's right over there, see?”
The boy pointed to me, and the father followed his gesture. I waved awkwardly.
“This is all my fault,” said the father, gritting his teeth. “I was a shitty-”
“No, you weren't,” said the boy. “You were the best you could be. You made mistakes, like everyone does. And you tried to fix them, like I did. But you can't undo the past. You can only remember it, and learn from it, and maybe even accept it. But you can't change the past. I learned that the hard way."
“This is all my fault," the father repeated. "I killed you, Caleb. Everything that happened tonight, everything that's gone wrong, all of it is my fault. I should be dead, not you.”
“Dad,” said the boy, sounding very much like me. “Believe me when I say that you don't know half of what happened tonight. If I told you, you'd probably think I was on acid or something. But I think I can make things right now.”
“How can we make this right?”
The boy reached into his pocket, and pulled out two items worth more than all the gold and silver in all the world. They were two small memories, retrieved from the waters of the lost, luminescent in the darkness of the hospital room. They glowed a strange, yellowish light that was somehow both happy and sad. If you put them up against your ear, you would hear whispering, and maybe even a few forgotten songs.
“What are those?” said the father.
The boy smiled.
“They're me. Or, a very important part of me, at least. I want to give them to someone special, to Mom and Lila, and I want you to do it for me.”
“I don't understand-”
“Neither do I,” said the boy. “But it feels right.”
“I guess,” said the father. “I guess I could try, but Caleb, I'm very weak. I feel-”
“No you're not,” said the boy. “You're alive. You're strong. You can do it, dad, I trust you with all my heart. You just have to slip out of this...this place you're in right now. You can get back, I know you can.”
“I can try,” said the father, taking the memories as the son proffered them.
The boy smiled, backing away from his father's bed.
“Goodbye dad,” said the boy. “Tell them I said hello, will you? Tell I'm sorry for what happened. Tell them that I'm happy now, and that I love them...” At this, his voice began to break. He struggled to find words, and let his heart find them for him. “I love you all, more than I can say.”
The father held the memories close to his heart.
“I love you, son.”
“C'mon,” said the boy. “Get up. I believe in you.”
The father nodded, and turned to Lila and Maggie. He fought to sit up, his wound aching across every nerve of his body. His living family was oblivious to his pain as he struggled to his feet, off the hospital bed. He staggered towards them, the memories in hand. He outstretched his arm towards them, and, just as he was about to turn his head to steal one last glimpse at his son, the memories' light exploded in color and illumination. The whole room was covered in light, and everything was gone.
In the mortal world, where Jack Chesterton had been laying for hours on his deathbed, everything was proceeding just as it always had. People are born, people live, people die; sometimes all in the same day. The weather will get warm, and then it will get cold. School will let in, school will let out. Children will laugh, teenagers will cry, and adults will worry.
And every once in a while, in this ordinary little world in this ordinary little Universe in a never-ending stream called Time, a miracle happens. One such miracle happened today, when Lila Chesterton opened her eyes, retreating from nightmares and silent sleep, remembering the laughs and the joys that she and her brother had shared. What was lost was found, what was stolen now returned, what was wrong made made right. The girl's mother stirred beside her.
“Mommy?” said the girl. “I think Daddy's awake.”
The mother looked up, her eyes filled with tears.
“Mommy, are you crying?”
“I,” said the mother, barely footed in the waking world. “I was dreaming of Caleb. It was...it was just a dream.”
“Honey?”
The woman's eyes opened entirely.
“Jack?” she exclaimed, leaping from her seat towards her husband. Little Lila followed suit, practically bouncing out of her chair to embrace her father.
He was still in bed, his eyes tired and his face pale, but he was alive, and that was more than anyone had hoped for.
“Oh, Jack,” said Maggie, taking his hand. “I thought I'd lost you, too.”
“Maggie, Lila,” said Jack. “When I was away, when I was between things, I saw-.”
“Just try to rest, Jack,” said Maggie. “We can talk about things later, when-”
“Caleb says hi,” said Jack. “He says he's sorry, and that he loves us, all of us. He says he's at peace now, and I think he's happy. Honey, he spoke to me!”
The mother's jaw hung open.
“Jack,” she said. “How did you-”
“I was away,” said Jack. “And I saw him. He helped me get back here, Maggie. I never would have gotten here without him.”
“Oh, Jack,” said Maggie, her eyes filling with tears. “Oh, God.”
“C'mere,” said Jack, losing control of his own tears as he opened his arms.
The family embraced, father, mother and daughter. It wasn't a whole family, it wasn't even ahappy family, but it was, for all its hardships, still a family. The boy and I watched as they hugged and wept and remembered. The night was finally over, giving way to morning as sunlight began to spill into the room.
“Death,” said Caleb, watching the reunion with eyes that were neither sad or regretful. “I think I'm ready.”
“Ready for what?” I asked.
“You know what.”
“Are you sure you don't want to hang around for a bit?” I asked. “I've always wanted a sidekick.”
“Maybe in another life,” said Caleb, a smile breaking across his face. “But Caleb Chesterton is at peace. I'm ready to go now.”
“Well,” I said, a little embarrassed at my reluctance. “The customer is always right, I guess. Are you ready?”
Caleb never broke his attention away from the family. He watched them, like a guardian angel watching his flock.
“Yeah,” he whispered.
“As you wish,” I said. “Follow me.”
The windows swung open, letting the sunlight stream through without hinder. The family did not notice, too swept up in the trials and tragedies of the night to care. I took the boy by the shoulder, and led him towards the window. He stole one final glance at his family, and turned away as I ushered him towards the light of the dawning day.
A marble staircase began at the bottom edge of the window and extended out into the sky. I led the boy onto the first step, and followed him.
“What's this?” said the boy as he stepped onto the stairs. "More weird stuff?"
“The way home,” I said, and we began to climb.
The world, at least a part of it, was soaked in light. People began to wake from their slumbers and dreams, returning to the waking world. Life itself is but a dream, you know. It can be wonderful, terrifying, and unbearably difficult to comprehend. But in the end it's their dreams that keep them going, isn't it? Dreams of tomorrow, dreams of today and of days past. Memories, tethering the past and future together to a powerful and unbreakable whole.
The boy and I climbed the marble staircase, making jokes and swapping stories as we went. We talked about many things, mostly about his life. The good times, the bad times, the just plain funny times. He asked me about aliens and other worlds, of the future and the past. I told him things I probably shouldn't have, but his amusement at my answers were entertaining enough that I didn't mind spilling a few secrets.
We walked, for what the boy felt to be forever and a day, passing through clouds, the atmosphere, into the dark void of the space between worlds. Stars flashed all around us, dazzling wonders in the darkness. It was here, out in the blackness of the Universe, that we at last came upon a landing and, finally, a door. Not a white door, not a black door, not a door made of wood or of metal. It was simply a door, and it's function was even simpler.
“Is that-”
“Yes,” I said. “The pearly gates, I believe. Bit of a misnomer, actually. Disappointing, I know.”
“They're perfect,” said Caleb.
“Well, you take what you can get. In this life,” I pointed to the door, “and the next.”
The boy turned to me.
“Death,” he said. “Before I go...I just wanted to say thank you, for everything. For the advice, for the traveling, for the terrible jokes. All of it. Thank you, just, thank you so much.”
“Terrible jokes?”
“Well, not all of them.”
“You break my heart, Caleb Chesterton,” I said with dramatic flair. “How ever will I go on?”
The boy laughed, and turned his attention to the door.
“Are you coming?” he said. “I mean, will I ever see you there? On the other side.”
“Not for a long while,” I said. “Not until the very last thing in the Universe breathes its last. I say I've got about six trillion years to go. Don't wait up for me. But yes, Caleb Chesterton, you will see me again. I may be older and sadder and just a bit lonelier, but you will see me again. In another life, of course.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Don't be,” I said, and meant it. “I'm Death. There are worse gigs. Probably.”
The boy smiled.
“Goodbye,” he said. “For now.”
“For now,” I said.
With that, Caleb Chesterton turned to the door, breathed in a heavy sigh, and turned the knob. The door creaked open. There was no light inside, no darkness or Hell or Heaven. It was not a door that led in; it led outwards, out of the Universe and into something eternal. The boy walked inside, and for a moment I thought he was going to look back. A splendorous light shone out from within, and the door shut behind him, the sound of laughter escaping before the opening sealed shut.
I smiled, watching the door fade away.
“Take it easy, Caleb Chesterton,” I mumbled, and turned away. I looked down at the Earth, so lonely and vulnerable in the vastness of space.
I still don't understand humans, and I don't think I ever will. They are a mystery that even I may never truly solve. They grasp at their small world, desperate to hold onto it as long as they can. Why do they cling to the things of the mortal world, when they have always known that it, too, will pass?
The answer, I think, is actually very simple. They're only human. Deep down in their hearts, they know that in the end, the only thing they'll have left is each other. In this life and the next.
