Ascension

Inspirational picture located at the following link. It really will help in understanding the story.
http://www.deviantart.com/print/239092/




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Darren

"I came as quickly as I could, Sir. Where is she?" Darren only just managed to get his breathing under control before approaching the priest. The not-so-clean-shaven thirty-three year old man was the very image of fitness: lean and tightly muscled like a distance runner or cyclist. His sandy-blond hair gave testament to how fast he had run the five blocks from his house to the church. Brown corduroys and white polo shirt were wet down the back from the rain puddles he splashed through. A trail of wet footsteps followed Darren down the corridor causing some of the brothers to look at him in mild reproach, though he never saw them.

Father Travis Kinkillian took in the whole sight of his guest in gentle amusement and waved the brothers on to their duties indicating to one to take care of the floor. Turning back to Darren he said, "My son, I have no idea what you're talking about. I didn't call you. In truth, I haven't been in my office but for a couple of minutes this morning." He paused a moment watching the look of disbelief come across the young man's face. He suddenly realized whom Darren must have been referring to. "All the same, your grandmother is in the second side chapel there."

Darren sighed heavily and moved to sit in a nearby chair. "Thank goodness for that. Have you seen her recently? I mean, have you looked in on her in the past few minutes?"

"Yes I have, son, and she is praying. I'm glad to see you finally here after all these years, even if there isn't a service for several more hours." Father Kinkillian's soft, green eyes critically examined Darren. Realizing something was not quite right, he continued, "I'm wondering, though, are you all right? You seem a bit... pale."

Darren turned away slightly from the observant priest, a touch of color coming to his cheeks. "No, Sir, I'm okay. It's just...." He turned back to Father Kinkillian, slate gray eyes taking in the measure of the man before continuing.

Father Kinkillian had been at St. Michael's for as long as Darren could remember, but to look at the man one would have thought him to be only a few years older than Darren himself. The priest's hairline was somewhat receded but there was no hint of gray there. The only indications of age were the deep laugh lines around his mouth and eyes. His black cassock hid his body and any hint of age one might gather from so spare a frame as an otherwise less-clothed body might show. There was also an air of quiet strength and great patience, as only time can grant, to the man. An air that indicated to Darren that he could speak his mind without the Father thinking him mad, or crazy.

"Can I confess something to you, Sir? I don't mean like 'sin' or anything. But I need to get something off my chest before I go see her."

Father Kinkillian appraised the young man and his words before responding. "Certainly, my son, though I gather you'd rather do it here in the open - or my office - rather than the confessional?"

"If you don't mind, Sir, here would be fine. But do you mind if I ask you to sit? It's actually something I'd rather say to a friend instead of to a priest."

Father Kinkillian looked around and saw a chair on the other wall of the ambulatory. He pulled it silently across the granite floor with ease. Sitting down facing Darren, he said, "Well then, if this is to be between friends, please call me by my name. I'll dispense with all the 'my son' business as well. Deal?" The smile that was known throughout the neighborhood creased his face and eased Darren's sense of hesitancy.

"Deal. Travis," he paused. Darren rarely ever used the honorific of 'Father' when refering to the priest, rather, he frequently used the man's first name when talking about him. He glanced quickly at the priest to see if he had used the name too easily. Father Kinkillian gave no indication of offense, so Darren continued. "Travis, I'm not one who believes that heavily in all this spiritual stuff. You know that. But I could have sworn that someone...no, that's not right...a couple of people, twins I think, came into my room just a little while ago and said that it was urgent I get here as soon as possible. There was something familiar about them, something in their appearance, like a family trait. And the thing that I thought odd about them was that they spoke simultaneously, no hint of echo or repeating. I never even bothered to stop and wonder how they got into my room.

"At first I thought about ignoring them, a figment of my imagination. But then they mentioned 'Mother Trudy.' That took me by surprise. I began to wonder who they were only then. But before I could get my head on straight enough to ask, they had disappeared. I literally tore through the house looking for them. When it became clear they weren't anywhere to be found I decided to not take any chances and come right over. Is any of this making sense to you?" He looked away and shook his head as if to clear it of an incoherent thought.

Travis reached out his arm and laid it gently on Darren's shoulder. When Darren finally looked back at him he said, "I think you should go see your grandmother now. She'll be able to tell you what I cannot." He stood up and moved the chair back to its original position then waited for Darren.

To Darren, Father Kinkillian seemed to have aged somewhat by the time he finished his tale. He watched the now old man with a perplexed expression. After a moment he, too, stood up and allowed Father Kinkillian to guide him gently by the arm to the chapel where his grandmother was still praying. "But.... What do you mean?" he finally asked. "Why can't you?"

"I can't because of a promise I made under the seal of the confessional. I know what you are asking but the answers are not mine to give. For that you must ask her. She is the only one who has what you are searching for right now. And to answer your question before you ask, no, she is not the one who told me. She's just the only one left alive who can tell you.

"Peace, my s... Darren. Perhaps later we will talk of things...perhaps." And with that he turned toward the apse, genuflected to the cross hanging there, then turned and left the young man staring at him in confusion.

~~~

'Mother Trudy's' Tale

The old woman knelt at the cushioned prie-dieu, her arms resting on the railing, hands clasped holding a redwood rosary. A hand-crocheted gray shawl draped over thin shoulders and made the paisley print dress she wore look more like a gown. Long, straight, silvered hair spilled halfway down her back after being gathered at the nape of her neck in a leather thong. A red-tipped white cane with a large loop on the handle end lay on the floor behind her. Throughout the small room the words of her whispered prayer echoed as if said by another voice--

"Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum. Benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui, Iesus. Sancta Maria, mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc, et in hora mortis nostrae. Amen."

Darren stood in the doorway to the chapel listening to her prayer uncertain whether he dared interrupt her. He listened, entranced, to the words of his grandmother. How many times had he heard that prayer when he was growing up in her care? Why did he never remember them sounding so beautiful before, so...honest? Intent as he was on listening to the solemn prayer that he was shocked when he heard his name.

"Darren, dear, come in and sit by me. Please?" How like his grandmother. She always seemed to know when he was near. She explained this uncanny ability by saying, 'The heart always sees a loved one more clearly than sight alone.'

She had raised him from birth. His mother and twin brother had not survived the childbirth. His father died a few months later of a broken heart. Gertrude and William, his grandfather, were the only next-of-kin left so they took him in and raised him as their own. He had been told there was quite a to-do with social services because Gertrude was blind from birth. After a conference with the family physician in which he explained how well she had done with her own daughter they allowed her to keep him.

"I'm glad you came," she said as he finally came near and sat on the pad with his back to the rail. Placing a fragile hand on his shoulder she added, "So v-very glad."

A long silence echoing with her words filled the space between them. The granite, marble, and richly burnished wood accents of the room suddenly became chilled to Darren despite the afternoon sun shining through a lone window above the crucifix. He turned his head to look at 'Mother Trudy', as everyone called her, and suddenly realized how old she was. Next week would be her eighty-seventh birthday.

Darren raised his left hand to place on hers and said, "Mwarree, are you okay?"

Gertrude's face lit up like a child's at Christmas at the sound of the old familiar name and joy infused her very words. "You haven't called me 'grandmother' like that since you were a child. I always wondered why you stopped."

He chuckled at the thought. "When I turned thirteen I guess that sounded just too childish. I was all 'grow'd up' and didn't want my new friends in junior high to think of me as a 'baby.' But now..."

"...Now that you really are all 'grow'd up', you're realizing the child within is still there...and it's just fine to call me 'Mwarree' again?"

"Yeah, heh, something like that," he smiled.

Gertrude moved her hand to the rail again, this time to lift herself off her knees and turn around so that she was sitting on the padding like her grandson. She kept her head facing the back of the small chapel, her sightless eyes closed. Using the old Gaelic endearment for her grandson, she said, "Macan, how did you know to come here? And just now?"

Darren heard in her voice that she already knew the answer and was just looking for confirmation. "I... had a couple of visitors," he started haltingly. "They said I should come right away."

"And these visitors, you let them in without knowing them? I think I taught you better than that." A playful grin touched her lips and Darren was certain that she already knew what had happened. He felt it best to just carry on normally though. He looked to the back of the chapel where a pair of Gothic arches were carved into the wall mirroring those that framed the door.

"I didn't 'let them in', Mwarree. They were just...there, two beautiful young women in golden gowns and matching opera gloves. It seemed as if they knew me." He paused, immersing himself in the memory. "And I felt as if I knew them. Heaven only knows where from, though. They just looked...familiar somehow...like from our family. I know that probably sounds crazy, but it's true."

"I believe you, dear. Did you notice anything else about them?"

Darren shook his head, and then a puzzled expression crossed his face. "I can't be certain. They looked right at me but it seemed to me as if they were..." He trailed off suddenly looking to his grandmother.

"As if they were blind?"

"Yeah. But...how...?"

"I was one of them. To hear that my sister was there, too, sort of surprises me. Sort of, but not much."

Darren could only stare. His mind a sudden whirlwind of confusion and questions: Mwarree has a sister? She was there? That was Mwarree? She has...had a twin sister?

After a few seconds Gertrude spoke again. "I never told you about Gwendolynn. I figured you had had enough sadness in your young life that I needn't pour mine on you as well. Gwen is my older twin sister. But she died sixty years ago from influenza...there had been complications. She had to have been, oh, twenty-seven at the time." A tear trickled down her cheek even as she smiled and Darren wiped it off gently with his thumb. He scooted closer to her and put his arm around her spare shoulders.

"Those were some of the hardest days I've ever had to face. We were never far apart for most of our lives until then. The doctor and nurses wouldn't let me into the same room with her until right at the very end when she begged them to let me in. She asked me to dress her in the gown she wore at our last birthday celebration so she could be 'presentable' when the priest came in. I could do nothing else but what she asked. I knew she was dying, even if my parents refused to admit it to me. I knew it in the very core of my being. The last things I put on her were the opera gloves and a silver necklace with a single, silver-caged pearl. We hugged then and said our good-byes.

"Father Kinkillian...did you know we are the same age?"

Darren grinned. "I figured he was 'of an age' with you."

She smiled and continued. "He had just started serving as parish priest about that time. We had known him since we were all small children. Anyway, Father Kinkillian went into her room a bit later for final confession and the last rites. When he came out again, he told us she was at rest. He came over to me and said that there was something he needed to tell me in private. We excused ourselves from the rest of the family that had gathered and went down the hall to Dad's office and closed the door. When we were alone and seated he told me that Gwen had told him something under the seal of the confessional but that she gave him explicit orders, as a last wish, if you will, to share it with me and me only. He said she told him that when she died she wasn't going to 'move on' but intended to stay and be my guardian angel.

"He said he told her that that decision was for God to make, not her, but if she wanted, he would pray that it would be so. She had to let it rest at that so as to not put him off. Well, I think I can safely say that she has always been with me since then. I've seen her. And she's been here for you, too. She has always guarded our family ever since that day."

Darren was near to crying now as he pictured all that his grandmother told him. He hugged her a little closer and put his head on her shoulder. He wanted to ask her a question, but understanding that she hadn't yet finished he kept quiet. He knew that she would answer his unvoiced questions. He was not, however, ready for what she said next.

"Do you see her now? Just there in the left alcove?" She pointed to the opposing wall. "She's smiling at us... at you."

He raised his head and looked with confusion to where she pointed. There, towards the top of the carved Gothic arch, one of the young women he had seen in his apartment hovered. She was clearly facing him and he could see that she was smiling.

"Do you remember what I used to tell you whenever you asked how I knew your were nearby?" Gertrude asked.

"'The heart always sees a loved one more clearly than sight alone,'" he recited remotely, having not taken his eyes off the spirit of his great-aunt.

"She has been my heart and my eyes for many a year now. She has helped me to watch over you and know when you were around. I know you can't hear her just now, but she is calling for me to join her."

He sharply looked back at her, mouth open to proclaim a protest. But whether because she sensed his motion or because of her second sight granted by her sister, she precisely placed a finger over his lips to forestall anything he might say.

"I did join her in spirit briefly to call you to me, to come here to the church, but I am not entirely ready to go just yet. There are still things I need to take care of. But soon, too soon, I shall be at her side. It's almost time. But I will make you a promise. When I do go, I won't leave you alone. Truth be told, Macan, even when Gwen and I have not been with you, you have always had your own guardian angel watching over you. Your twin is always with you, he always has been."

"But I've never.... How.... Mwarree, I don't understand."

Facing Darren she said, "Your understanding is not needed, Macan. That's just the way it is. When you are ready to open yourself to the possibility, then you will see and understand. But not until then."

Gertrude hugged Darren at that point. When they had disengaged she reached down and picked up the cane that announced to the world she was blind. She stood up, her grandson assisting her until she was steady. He stood up and offered his arm. She turned to the crucifix hanging behind the prie-dieu and genuflected then accepted his arm. Together they headed toward the nave. Just before entering the nave, Darren looked back at the carved arch then to the crucifix and hesitantly nodded.

High in the alcove on the right a hazy figure, looking much like Darren, hovered and smiled at his great-aunt.

~~~

Almost

Three weeks later.


The city had allowed the neighborhood to close all streets within a ten-block radius of the church for the day. They also offered the services of the police force to direct people to open parking places and as security for the whole area.

Darren stood on the landing of the steps that led up to the front double-doors of the old brownstone he called home and took a deep breath as he looked up and down the street. Cars of every make and model lined both sides. Every last one of them facing the direction he had to walk. A few people, all dressed in black, were getting out of their cars and started walking to where the cars pointed. Cool autumnal air blew fitfully down the street between the buildings and cars making mini tornadoes of the leaves that had fallen. On the doors and stoop-posts black ribbons were tied into bows. 'Mother Trudy' was going to be sorely missed by everyone who knew her. She had touched so many people's lives....

He pulled out a set of earphones and put them on his head then turned on his iPod, setting the volume almost to maximum. He had been hearing words of condolence for three days unending without a chance to do much grieving privately. He just wanted to block out everyone for a while as he walked to the cathedral. Wrapping a scarf around his neck and putting his hands in the pockets of his long camel-colored overcoat Darren started down the steps and turned right on the sidewalk. He kept his eyes lowered to just a few yards ahead of himself; he had walked this path so many times that his feet would get him there without having to watch where he was going or think about it.

Instead, his thoughts were on his Mwarree. He was angry that she really did leave him, grateful for the time he had spent with her the last days of her life, frustrated that he didn't say all he wanted to say to her, confused now that there was no one around that he trusted so much as he had her. There were so many feelings and conflicting thoughts to try and deal with. And just what am I going to do with all that food? He laughed in spite of himself at that thought. Where had that one come from?

He moved so automatically down the sidewalk and across the intersections that people who knew him and saw him just shook their heads even as they said a small prayer for him and crossed themselves.

With the iPod playing so loud and his mind skipping from the past to the future he never heard the car that pulled out suddenly into the street until the screeching of the tires and a blowing horn penetrated his awareness. He looked up only slightly startled at the driver who had stopped just in time to keep from running him over.

Time seemed to stand still momentarily for Darren. All of the sudden he wasn't seeing Dr. McHenney or the car, he was looking at the shadowy figure of a man with his arms stretched out as though flagging down the vehicle. He seemed to be standing in the hood of the car. Slowly the figure turned around to look at him and smiled.

The vision was over as soon as it had started. He snapped back to reality to find himself surrounded by people who had seen the near accident. They were buzzing with comments. An occasional "Did you see that," and "Is he still alive," could be heard above it all. Dr. McHenney stood in front of him asking if he was all right. "Dear God, man! I could have killed you. Are you okay? I tended 'Mother' Trudy at the end, I don't need to be tending you today, too." He crossed himself, as did several others nearby who had heard him. "Darren, are you paying any attention? ...Darren? ...Darren!" He snapped his fingers in front of Darren's nose.

"What? Oh, yes sir. I'm fine," Darren responded slowly as he removed the earphones and lowered the volume. He looked around for the man he thought he had seen, then looked up to see the stricken face of Dr. McHenney. "But you seem a bit worse for the wear."

"Damn it, son, I nearly ran you over. It's enough to give a man heart stoppage." Milford McHenney had been the family physician ever since Grandpa William was diagnosed with cancer and died twenty-five years earlier.

"You sure you're all alright," he asked once again, honest concern showing in both his face and voice.

"Yes, Dr. McHenney, I'm sure," he repeated with a bit of a smile.

"Good, good. Then I need to be going. I got a call from the hospital, an emergency surgery to do. I'm sorry I won't be there for your grandmother's funeral. She was a good woman." He moved back to the door of his car and got in as the street began to clear. "And I want you in the office tomorrow. NO excuses. Got that?"

"I'm okay, sir, really. But I'll be there."

Darren walked back up onto the curb and waved to Dr. McHenney as he drove slowly away. After reassuring a few more people that he really was feeling fine and not injured in any way he continued his walk to the funeral, this time without the headphones and music. I really wasn't listening to it anyway, he said to himself as he shut the iPod off.

His thoughts returned to the figure he had seen and tried to recreate what the specter he had seen looked like. He stopped again in the middle of the sidewalk when he realized he had reconstructed his own smiling face. "No. That's not me. That's my brother - my...guardian angel. Somehow he stopped Dr. McHenney from hitting me. He saved my life," he said to no one in particular. A slow smile spread across his face as he again headed for the church. The words of his grandmother returned and sounded less mysterious than when he first heard them three weeks ago. "Your understanding is not needed, Macan. That's just the way it is. When you are ready to open yourself to the possibility, then you will see and understand. But not until then."


~~~

Ascension


He stood by the casket of his grandmother with Father Kinkillian by his side, a kindly arm around his shoulder. He looked down upon the face of the woman who had raised him, who he affectionately called Mwarree and everyone else called 'Mother Trudy.' She was dressed in a gold-colored strapless gown with matching opera gloves. Her long silver hair seemed to float around her head like a nimbus. The cane she used whenever she went walking was tucked discreetly beside her.

He shed no tears for her, though he could hear the people in the nave sniffle and quietly weep behind him. The choir of brothers behind the rood screen began to sing softly in the background, Let Saints on Earth in Concert Sing.

"Come along, my son. It's time to start," Father Kinkillian whispered.

"Just one more moment, S...Father. Please? This is the last time I'll get to see her, right?"

The priest smiled, catching the change in the way Darren addressed him, and patted his shoulder lightly. "Okay. But just a moment." Then he moved away to take his place for the greeting and opening prayer.

Darren reached into the inner coat pocket of his jacket and pulled out a silver necklace from which a single pearl caged in silver hung. He placed it around her neck with the pendant laying high on her chest, saying, "I found this in your jewelry box, Mwarree. I think you'll be wanting it...just like Aunt Gwen." He leaned down and kissed her gently on the forehead. Standing up again he placed his hand on hers and gently gave it a squeeze and whispered, "I think I'm ready. I think I'm beginning to understand."

He walked to the front pew to take his seat. On the way he looked up toward the high Gothic arches in which windows were set. The sun streamed in spreading its golden radiance throughout the nave. This time the vision was unmistakable. As in the chapel, and his bedroom three weeks ago, he saw them, his grandmother and her sister dressed in matching gowns and looking much as they did sixty years ago, twins in every way. They were ascending a sunbeam as though it was a path leading to heaven. Still facing the congregation Darren smiled then took his seat.

As Father Kinkillian began speaking, Darren looked over to the casket one more time. Hovering above Mwarree's feet was the spirit of his twin brother smiling at him in return.