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A tale of choices along the road traveled
The sun was shining, its rays wrapping him in warmth and a feeling of peaceful tranquility as the man walked along the country road. The sky overhead was a crisp and never-before-seen shade of blue. Wispy clouds scudded across the sky, adding to his sense of well being that was deeper and more clear than he had ever felt before.
That befuddled him a bit for there was a thought, a clouded memory perhaps, of being in a hospital bed not so long ago with worried and sad faced friends, relatives and loved ones gathered around him. Tubes were everywhere, in his arms, down his nostrils, a large device filled his mouth and throat preventing him from speaking and the pain had been overwhelming. He seemed to remember the sounds of a machine making wheezing sounds that were in synch with every breath he took. There had been "beeping" from yet another machine somewhere behind his head and still there had been the pain, that awful, mind boggling pain that racked his body and seemed to control his world, stealing his thoughts, clouding his mind as he struggled to communicate with those he loved, but couldn't because of the restrictive contraption in his mouth and throat.
Those memories were like a nagging image at the back of his mind that perplexed him for he could feel the strength and unrestricted movement of his body now. He felt totally free and as powerful and vitally alive as he had ever been as a young man. He was tempted to break into a jog just because he felt so wonderfully, physically good and strong. He decided instead to simply walk and drink in the wonder of the scenery. Somehow he knew, he had plenty of time to do it.
He wasn't certain where he was. There were distant mountains on the horizon to his right as well as on his left, most probably the Appalachains, he thought, for they lacked the snow-tipped majesty of the western American mountain ranges. Even at that distance, he could make out the verdant hues of those slopes. They appeared to have been painted there by a master landscape artist with a vision of awe-inspiring beauty that he wished to share with all who may one day see his handiwork. Between the mountains and the nearer landscape, he could see forested slopes rolling down to border on pastures of vivid, vibrant green, open spaces of beauty that invited the watcher to come walk ankle deep in their rich, lush grass and wildflower covered, endless, unfettered vistas.
Off to his left, he could catch momentary glimpses of a mountain stream between the stately trees that filtered the gurgling, rushing symphony of the water merrily following its bed, gurgling its hymn of happiness to the azure sky above.
Without seeing it fully, he somehow knew that streambed was covered by rocks that thrilled to the caress of the rushing waters as they headed to some distant destination. Rough edges were no where to be found, he knew, for the age old current had long since worn away the rough, sharp edges until all that remained were rounded monuments to the wisdom of nature.
The road was little more than a dirt path, a lot like the ones he used to explore in his long ago youth. That thought brought a smile of contentment to his face as he studied his surroundings as he walked along. He wasn't sure where he was going, yet he seemed to have some secret knowledge locked in his being that told him that he was on the right path. He wasn't at all sure how he had come to be in this place, but, for some reason that he didn't quite understand, he knew that he was supposed to be where he was, walking as he was and headed in the direction he was going. His feet and soul seemed to know the way, so he decided to pay heed to them.
He had never felt better in his life, he thought. Just then, another flash of memory came to him of days and months of weakness, of debilitating illness, of medicines and doctors, of invasive, painful tests and examinations and shaming loss of dignity, but as quickly as the silk-thin memory came, it too vanished. Try as he might, he could not pull it back to examine it. It was as if it was a memory belonging to another person, in another place and time and he had somehow intruded on that memory.
He was suddenly startled to realize that a dog, a cat and a horse walked along with him, pacing him as he went on his way to someplace unknown. He stopped and stared in wonder, for he knew these animals. They were his pets, or at least, they had been.
The dog was the family pet of his boyhood, "Rusty," but he was as vital and alive now as he had ever been as a puppy. He seemed to remember being away at school and someone telling him on the telephone that "Rusty" had been put to sleep to relieve his suffering. He had cried then, privately, for young men his age weren't supposed to weep for dead pets. He knew better.
"Rusty" had lived a long life in human years. In fact, he had even lived a long time in "doggie" years, but the last few years of that life had not been good ones for the once boisterous four-legged bundle of glee and joy who licked his love upon the face of his young master.
"Rusty" had suffered bravely, but the bouncing, rollicking bound to greet his young master and constant companion whenever he made it home from school was no more. "Rusty" winced and limped painfully to him and simply laid his head in his young master's lap to get the ritual ruffling of his ears and the loving stroke along his flanks that were his natural due.
Now, "Rusty" gamboled along beside him, venturing a short distance afield on either side of the pathway and on the pathway itself to explore their surroundings. After a brief examination and a few ritualistic "markings" of his passage, "Rusty" would come bounding back as he had when the man and dog both shared a time of youthful dreams and the promise of life itself.
"Jackson," the cat was every bit as haughty and seemingly aloof as he had ever been when he ruled his master's home for all those years. It did no good for the man knew the real "Jackson." Despite his feigned indifference to the man with whom he had shared a residence, a life and more than one piece of furniture, "Jackson" still clung closely to the man, finding opportunity after opportunity to rub his entire length against the man's legs as they walked along.
"Whiskey," the horse, was doing the same puppy-dog imitation he had always done when they shared all those joyful days together. "Whiskey" had always stepped elegantly, head held high with pride and dignity, feet moving in a ballet of equine grace, but he was actually a spoiled rotten beggar for all his regal stride. The man felt "Whiskey" stick his nose around his shoulder to nudge against his chest, as if once again searching for the always present sliced apple pieces or tiny baby carrots the man used to always carry there for his best friend The arthritic hip on "Whiskey's" rear leg seemed to be much better now, for "Whiskey" once again moved again with all the grace and dignity of the champion show horse he had been before age finally caught up with him.
Wait a minute! Whiskey had died a horrible death at the hands of a vicious man who acted on behalf of an enemy who wanted to harm the man. That had been years ago. The man remembered burying "Whiskey" in his favorite spot in the rolling pasture "Whiskey" had finally been free to roam without a halter or any other restraint for the first time in his entire life. Even buried, the man had made certain "Whiskey" would be able to watch the driveway in the shade of the Mimosa tree to await the daily return of his master as he had always done. After "Whiskey" had gone, the man had wept again in private for the absence of those whinnied greetings.
"Jackson" had simply disappeared one cold February night after being ill for a brief time. The man had sought the ailing cat for hours and then for days and days, searching every conceivable hiding place, all to no avail. There were no more "love sessions" with "Jackson" perched in his lap with his paws at the notch of the man's collar bone, "kneading" his devotion to his master for hour after hour. He had found "Jackson's" body when it fell from the console television set the day he moved from that small apartment to a much more spacious home. Obviously, the leukemia-stricken cat had crawled into the opening at the back of the huge set in search of warmth, quiet, privacy and darkness for his passing. The man had quietly and reverently buried "Jackson" in one of his favorite "sunning" spots near a copse of trees that had been "Jackson's" favorite hunting grounds before the killing illness had struck him down. He buried "Jackson" in a private ceremony with tears streaming down his cheeks.
"If they're all dead, I must be too," the man reasoned. "That must be it!" he exclaimed to himself, but that didn't make any sense at all.
He felt marvelously, wonderfully, miraculously alive! He couldn't locate any of the vaquely remembered aches, the involuntary grunt-producing pains or the nausea that had marked his final days before that hospital bed as he searched his memory. Those days were even more nebulous than the memories of that hospital bed, the machines and the sad-eyed friends and family gathered 'round him. That was odd, for those days of weakness and sickness had marked his life with shame and loss of pride and dignity during those lingering days of illness.
"Jeepers! I don't know," he thought. "I sure feel alive, more so than I have in years," he considered. It was a mystery that was beyond his ken to sort out, so he decided to just keep walking the way he had been and in the direction he had been following.
As the man rounded a sharp curve in the path, suddenly a huge stone wall, on his right side and higher than his head began to shadow the pathway he followed. He could not see over that wall and, somehow, he knew he wasn't supposed to try to get a look over the wall. He didn't have the slightest idea how he knew that, but he did and the mandate of that knowledge overwhelmed any curiosity he may have held. He would just continue walking and see what happened.
Suddenly there in the wall, about a half mile away appeared a large gate set in arches of what appeared to pure gold and priceless gemstones. As he neared, he could see that the gates were of the brightest, purest gold he had ever seen. An ancient man with a trumpet stood guard at the gate and greeted the man warmly as he closed the distancce between them.
"Welcome," the ancient, yet clear-skinned, bright-eyed gatekeeper greeted the man, using his name, the one he had been born with, not the nickname he had used most of his adult life. "We've been expecting you," he said as he opened a giant ledger and withdrew a quill pen from somewhere within the depths of his robe.
"Where am I? Am I dead?" the man asked in a rush of questions.
"Yes, my son, you are, came the half-expected reply. "Just step through these gates and you will be in heaven," the muse gestured the invitation. "Perhaps you're thirsty after your journey. Most arrivals are for some reason," the richly-robed gatesman suggested as he indicated a fountain of pure, gurgling water that stood just inside the gate. "Drink to your heart's content," the greeter smiled. The man began to step through the gate, but suddenly he stopped, looked around, looking back at the horse, dog and cat sitting quietly outside the gate. None of them made a move to go through the gate. Even more significantly, the man did not see any cups or buckets the animals could use to quench their thirst too anywhere near the fountain.
"What about my horse, dog and cat? " he questioned the gatekeeper whose smile seemed to brighten the world and challenge the sun for brilliance. "After all, they're thirsty too.
"I'm sorry," the gatekeeper said though his words seemed to hold a hidden ring of deceit and barely concealed untruthfullness to the man's ears. "We have no provisions for pets here, for only humans may enter the afterlife through these gates."
The man paused at the threshold of the gates, his soul torn by this news. After only a moment's thought, he stepped back and thanked the gatesman.
"I'm sorry, but I'll wander this road forever before I abandon these, my good and true friends. They did not betray me in life and I won't betray them now," he said as he stepped away from the golden gates hung within the jewel-bedazzled archway. With that, he turned back to the dirt covered roadway and started out again along the path, his companions happily in step with him.
The man had walked only as far as the horizon when he spied yet another gate in the wall to his right. It was a simple, crude wooden gate that stood open, beckoning him as he walked closer. On the wall beside the gate, sat a young man of perfect features and who shed forth a golden white light of clear beauty. The creature of perfect beauty smiled at the man as he approached, yet said nothing.
"Where am I?" the man asked.
"Do not be afraid. You have died and left that other plane," the creature said comfortingly, also using the man's proper name. "This is the gate to heaven and we've been waiting for you," he answered in a voice filled with softness, compassion and caring.
The man was confused and wary now. "But, just a short ways back we came to a golden gate set in an arch studded with precious stones of all sorts. The man standing guard there told me that was the entrance to heaven," he explained questioningly.
As the man spoke, he sighted another fountain just inside the rudimentary gateway. At the foot of the fountain was a pool of the clearest, most inviting water he had ever seen. He stepped back from the gate and confronted the youthful being who now seemed to be bathed in a pure light that did not blind, only soothed.
"What about my horse, dog and cat?" he asked.
"Of course, they're welcome too," the watchman said. "They should be able to drink from the pool without a problem."
With that, the man lead his three companions through the gate to the fountain. All four drank their fill and then the man began to realize he was in a place with streets of gold. Other people walked by, and each was obviously serene and at peace.
The now confused man asked the caretaker of the gate, "I don't understand. Just up the road from here was a place with a golden arch that was jewel- encrusted and held gates of pure gold. The man at that gate told me that those were the gates to heaven. Now I come to this place with a simple, almost crude wooden gate, no higher than my waist, standing open and you tell me that these are the gates to heaven. How can that be?"
"First, can you tell me why you did not enter at the other gate?" the creature of light asked gently.
"Well, when I asked about water for my horse, dog and cat, the man there told me they had no provision for animals in that place. I would have to leave my friends outside. I couldn't betray these three, for never once in my life did any of them betray me. I decided to just take my chances until I came to a place that had a place for them too or continue to wander with them."
The youth of shimmering beauty smiled. "You were a wise man, for those were the gates to Hell."
Now the man was even more confused. "But those gates resembled the image of the 'Pearly Gates' that has been taught to me all my life," he stammered. "This gate is humble and doesn't look as if it could block anyone from entering here. How can that be. Why is that?"
"You have answered your own questions," the gentle man said to the new arrival.
"When? How?"" the man asked in confusion.
"When you walked away upon learning that using that entrance would mean that you had to betray and abandon your friends of a lifetime in order to gain entrance to what you were told was heaven you answered. And, this gate always remains open, for all are wanted here at any time," gently explained the creature.
"But, how can you allow Satan to build what appears to be the 'Pearly Gates' just a mile or so before a traveler reaches this humble appearing gate?
"Satan didn't build it; we did," said the young man with a smile.
"But, why? I still don't understand," the man sputtered in now total confusion.
The creature of light and beauty answered then. "The gate here is humble, for it is through humility that one gains entrance here most readily. And, we placed those other gates there so we could have an easy way to weed out those on this path who would turn their backs on their true friends in life. You see, we have no place here for anyone who would betray that kind of love and trust, for it is just such love and trust that the traveler received in his lifetime from his master. You and your friends are welcome here for you learned the most important lesson in life and applied it when you were forced to choose."
Lafcadio T. Lion
Wordsmith
