Darkness. The sky wept a steady rain onto the chilled October afternoon. The graveyard sighed, saddened by the funeral it now held. The old man, in an oak casket, rested in peace. His white face, looking much too bright against the dim colors. Max, Alexandra, Sophie, and Geoff cried silently into the wind. The preacher said a lot of things that they did not want to hear. They knew all the good things their father had done and they did not need to hear the shortened, cold version from a man they nearly knew. Then came the hardest part: saying goodbye. The preacher finished his statement and turned to Max, Alexandra, Sophie, and Geoff, who all held white roses. One by one they gently placed the roses onto the casket. All their shoulders heaved against each other. Their sobs rose above the graveyard and were lost in the cloudy sky. I turned the page.
The book had ended. A small end note was gracefully written in beautiful calligraphy.
Thus ends the life of Howard Vincent Grey. His children and grandchildren survive and will join his wife.
I looked at the assistant who looked pleased. He told me to follow him in a collected voice. I felt the tension in his voice as if he was hiding something that desperately affected my life from here on out. He led me down a wide hallway and asked if I had any questions. Of course I did. I could spend weeks asking him all my questions, but I decided to wait and just ask one. I asked about the little girl. He told me that she was four when she died and had been dead for ten years. Her name was Lily Anne Edorson. Her older sister almost committed suicide three years later because of the guilt she felt. She was stopped by her mother, who found her sitting in her room with a knife. She had been living a good life here. He also told me that when she had first arrived, she could only say how wonderful the grandfather had been: she meant me. I was not her grandfather, but just a humble, seventy year old man, who loved children.
We stopped walking and I found myself in a waiting room and saw, sitting in one of the chairs was my beautiful wife. I was so overjoyed that I thought I would have a heart-attack, if I could die again. We smiled as we gazed into each other’s eyes. I took her in my arms and enjoyed a long-awaited kiss from decades of being unable to hold her in my arms. I hugged her once more and looked up at the assistant who was beaming from ear to ear. He told us to follow him. He opened a plain oak door, like one in a clinic. Inside was a small girl sitting by herself enjoying the book she was engrossed in. She looked up at the three of us. I recognized the girl I had saved when I was seventy. She smiled and ran to give me a hug. My heart cried out to her, unable to believe this was the little girl from almost a decade earlier. Her face was no longer bloodied and her eyes were peaceful, no more horror. I picked her up and held her in my arms. She motioned to the table, where an envelope rested. She took it and handed the white envelope to me. It bore my name. I sat, with the little girl in my lap, and read the beautiful letter:
Dear Mr. Grey,
Thank you for being there for me when no one else was. You reminded me of my grandfather before he passed on. He would read to me and hold me, just like you had. I was scared and did not know who else to turn to. But you were there. You kept me safe and you held me when I was most desperate. So thank you, Mr. Grey. I have thought of you for these past ten years and I have watched you. You are a good man. Thank you for touching my life and going through the pain you did just to keep my company and to help my passing.
With all my love,
Lily Anne Edorson
I did not understand how a four year old could write such a beautiful letter, though everything seemed almost impossible, so I did not ask. She reached her small fingers toward my face and wiped the tears from my cheeks. I smiled at her kindness. The assistant tapped me on the shoulder and told me to go with him. He led me to a room across from Lily’s. It looked identical. My wife stayed with Lily. We sat on the plastic chairs. He asked if I knew the purpose of my life. I thought I had, but I did not know anymore. He spoke:
You thought your purpose was to be good to your family. You did your best. Well done. But now I think you have realized that your purpose has changed. You affected so many people in your life for the good. You played with your younger brother when your friends did not want to. You married a wonderful woman, who bore you four beautiful children. You raised them to the best of your ability, despite your depression from your wife. You helped your mother get through the most difficult time of her life: her husband’s suicide. You think you failed with Geoff, but you did not. You were firm with him when he needed it most. He has become a good husband and a good friend. You helped Ms. Edorson in a time when she needed someone. You did not save her life, but you eased her passing. She has been grateful for the past ten years. She loves you very much. You have led a good life. You made a difference in those around you, despite what you think.
Tears sprang to my eyes as I listened to the good things I had done in my life. I could not believe that I had been an influence for so many people. My heart cried with joy. The assistant smiled tenderly aware of my happiness. A man opened the door. His brightness was above anything I had ever seen before. The assistant motioned or me to stand. The man came to me and took me in his arms. I cried more, hoping that my eyes would run out of tears. He looked into my eyes:
Howard, you lived your life to the fullest, never leaving a moment untouched. You have nothing to fear or regret from your life. Well done, thou good and faithful servant.
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