Featured Column
Special Short Story
Week of 1.1.2009
You don't have to be dead to go to heaven
Dying can't be half bad if it's like this
The following short story is the fantasy about the author
dying and what happens to him when he realizes his earthly life has ended
and
he finds himself together with family and friends in a special place.
I felt the sharp pain in my left arm and knew right away what was happening. Following
the pain in my arm I got short of breath, my jaw got numb, I got dizzy and then I lost consciousness. Damn! I had died! I had suffered
a fatal heart attack and I had died. Damn!
Suddenly the pain and numbness went away. I
felt fine. In fact, better than I’ve felt in a long time. The ache in my lower back wasn’t there anymore. The stiffness in my fingers
was gone and everything appeared sharper and clearer. I didn’t need my eyeglasses.
I felt
refreshed. Better than I have in years.
I rubbed my eyes, felt my arms, bent my fingers,
did a quick squat to test my legs. Everything was working and working well.
Then I looked
around. What the hell!
How quickly things can change. One minute I’m having the grotesque
pains of a heart attack and now I’m feeling tip top.
I looked around and realized I was
standing in front of the house I grew up in, the one around the corner from the park in Inglewood. My Mom and Dad were standing in
the doorway. Dad had his arm around Mom’s shoulder and they were both waving at me to come in. I could see my grandmother standing
behind them in the living room. I could see her smiling. She was waving to me too.
What
was going on?
I turned around and there was my wife, standing right behind me. Off on my
right were my son and daughter. My younger sister stood to the left of my children. Across the street from our old house was a group
of my old friends. Guys I had remained friends with all these years. Some had died and some were still living where I had just come
from.
What was going on?
Mom had died in 1961,
Dad and Gram had both died in 1965. I was beyond joyful to see them. I ran to them and hugged mom and dad together. I cried with joy.
Then I hugged Gram. Mom said, “Son, we’re so glad to see you. We’ve been waiting for you. We’re together again.”
The three, Mom, Dad and Gram took turns welcoming and hugging my sister.
My father hugged
me and said, “At last. It’s been so long. We’ve been hoping we’d see you soon and here you are. It’s wonderful.” Gram looked at me
and beamed. She looked so happy.
I turned and reached for my wife’s hand. She held hers
out and our fingers intermingled.
I said, “Mom, Dad, Gram, this is Marilyn, my wife.” The three took turns hugging her and kissing
her on her cheek. Mom said, “You’ve been good for our son.” Marilyn smiled broadly.
Off
to the right, in the driveway, was my old ’49 Ford, my favorite car, the one on which I had twin pipes installed. I’ll never
forget the sound of the old V-8 engine and the twin pipes.
Walking towards me were old
friends, Tommy, “Fuzzy,” Laramie, Dick, Don, Ward and Gene. Standing next to them was my cousin and friend, Carl.
Don had died in 1994, Dick in 1998. I hadn’t seen “Fuzzy” since we were both 20-years old, in 1954. Laramie moved away in 1952. Tommy,
Ward, Carl and Gene were still alive -we’ve remained friends since grammar school.
Don was my best friend. When he died in 1994 a
part of me died. I was wounded in the same manner as when my Mom, Dad and Gram died. Don’s sudden death changed me. I realized again
that life is precious, but fleeting.
Here I was standing on my folk’s front lawn, talking
with old friends. Still standing in the doorway were Mom and Dad. My favorite old car was parked in the driveway.
What was going on?
I told the guys, Marilyn, my son and daughter, Doug and Diane, and my
sister to come with me, “Come in the house with me, please,” Mom and Dad welcomed everyone. Gram went to the kitchen to make a pot
of coffee.
“Sit down, sit down,” Dad urged.
It was such a small house. We all squeezed in. Three of the guys sat on the carpeted floor.
I began, “Mom, Dad, what’s going on? How come you’re here, my old car is here, Gram, my old friends from school. How did I get here
and where is ‘here’?”
Mom looked at Dad, Dad looked at Mom. Mom looked Dad in the eye and
said, “You go ahead.” Dad patted my Mom’s hand and turned towards me.
“Son, you died. You
had a heart attack.”
I knew something had happened to me, but “dead!”
I told my Dad, “If I’m dead, where am I? What is this place? How come all of you are here? How did my old car get here.?”
Dad, got up from his chair and moved to sit next me on the couch. He patted me on my shoulder and continued, “Son, since Adam and
Eve everyone on earth
has wondered what happens when you die. There are all kinds of thoughts about what happens. Some people think
it’s just the end; life just stops. Others believe in a heaven and a hell. Hell is where the bad people go. Heaven is where the good
people go. Others believe that only those who are religious believers can go to heaven. Son, there are so many ideas about dying and
what happens next.”
Mom was getting fidgety. She held up her right index finger and began,
“Son, it’s simple. When anyone, everyone, all of us, dies we just continue living in our minds. We all create places and people and
we live there. You don’t have to be dead to live there. As long as you’re in the mind of whomever died you continue living with them
– and when you die you go and live in your mind. All the people you ever knew are with you again – if that’s what you believe. Doesn’t
matter if they’re alive or dead. People you love, people you knew, people you liked – they’re all going to be with you again. Only
this time everyone is much nicer. And there’s another special thing, nobody dies here. Nobody gets sick. Everyone has whatever they
want – and everyone wants what’s good for them and everyone else. People that are in your mind that you maybe didn’t care for in your
other life will be nice now. As long as they’re in your mind you will be able to see them here and you’ll enjoy them.”
My wife, kids, friends, Gram, Mom, Dad just sat there and watched me. They all seemed to know about the place. Even the ones that
were still alive in the other place knew all about what was happening and where we were. Everyone was smiling.
Gram came in the living room and said, “Coffee’s ready for anyone who wants it.”
Ron was born in the Bronx, New York. He was raised in Southern California and lived in Honolulu, Hawaii for three decades. He attended Inglewood High School and U.C.L.A.. His youthful goal was to become a major league baseball player. In Hawaii Ron played on a series of championship softball teams. He is an active tennis player.
Ron’s career began at the Inglewood Daily News where as a youngster was enrolled in a publisher training program. He served as an advertising salesman, circulation manager, writer and layout and design staffer. He has been a newspaper publisher at the Oregon City Oregon Enterprise Courier, the Beloit Wisconsin Daily News, the Elizabeth, New Jersey Daily Journal and This Week Magazines (Hawaii).
Ron lives with his wife, Marilyn, in San Diego, California. His two children, Douglas and Diane also live in the San Diego area. Ron’s interests range far and wide and are reflected in his columns diverse topics.
Ron Cruger