Home Again

        He didn’t really know he was dead until he saw his hands. When he awoke under the pale orange sky surrounded by winding rivers and blooming flowers, he had just assumed his family had taken him out to the park, in a last-ditch effort to rejuvenate him.
         Sure, the sky wasn’t usually such an odd shade of orange, but in his town tornado warnings were like the sun. They rose every day, but always sank to the ground by six p.m.
         But then, when he saw his hands so clean and unwrinkled, he knew he must have passed on. It all made sense now; the sky, the unnerving peace and calm of the place. Heck, there were even fish shooting a couple inches out of the water and slipping back into the current of the winding rivers.
         He stood up, uneasy-curious, he hadn’t even known he was sitting-and went to dangle his feet in the water. Maybe the water was toxic, maybe it wasn’t. But he had died already; it wasn’t like it could do much more to him. He held back a shout when the water didn’t even make him wet at all.
         Where was this place? Heaven? Was he a ghost? Was that why he couldn’t feel the water?
         Just then, a wail emanated from the stream. He drew his feet out. He looked down, and saw the moving image of a young girl crying through a hole in the stream. Suddenly, it all came back to him-his kids, his grandkids, his dear Elizabeth. His illness.
         He’d been diagnosed with leukemia some time ago, he noted. Now, in a strange life-after-death experience, he was looking down on Becky, his youngest granddaughter. In a stream under an orange sky.
         Shaking off the abnormality of the situation, he focused on the girl’s sad face.
         “I-I’ll never see him again?”
         Somehow, his heart could not break. He could only watch as the girl and her mother Angie were racked by sobs. He saw his son David start to comfort them, only to fall apart himself.
         Then he saw Elizabeth. She was not shedding a single tear. There was only a pained look on her face as she watched her family mourn. He could feel a slice in his chest-was her pain connected to him?
         Why hadn’t he felt Becky’s pain, or his children's?
         He took in their surroundings, wanting to look away from their tears. The cream-coloured walls of the town’s funeral home-the very walls he had snidely commented on at the funeral of their neighbour’s husband. His face formed into something like a smile at the memory of Elizabeth admonishing him, telling him to look remorseful.
         There was Elizabeth now-she had gone up the podium by his body. His body-so distorted and ugly compared to the one he had now.
         “My husband was a good man,” she said calmly, as if she didn’t feel a thing at all. “He was a good father. He was a good grandfather. I loved him, and he loved me. We will all miss him terribly.”
         The microphone emitted feedback as she stepped away from the podium.
         That was it? That was all she had to say of him after thirty-two years of marriage?
         He expected to feel sadness, but he couldn’t. Maybe this was Heaven. Somewhere in the Bible, he recalled, there was something about no sorrow or pain or death in Heaven. For now, all he could feel was confusion.
         Then David stepped up in front of the crowd, and let out a spiel of childhood stories about him and his dad before the tears dragged him off the stage. Angie didn’t do much better, just stood there and cried.
         He was surprised none of his other relatives had anything to say. How many Cokes and beers had he shared with his brother Carl? How many jokes and card games had been exchanged with his cousin Andrew?
         There was a hushed silence when the teary-eyed Becky stumbled up the stage, grabbed the microphone and held it oh-so-carefully in front of her face.
         “Grandma asked me to close in prayer, s-s-so I w-will,” Becky said with shuddering breaths. “Dear God. Grandpa’s w-w-with you now, so you better make him f-feel at home. Only b-buy him blue socks; he won’t wear anything else on his feet, and if he doesn’t wear s-socks he’ll freeze. He likes to tell you about h-his fishing stories, so even though you probably know them already, you b-better listen hard ‘cause he’ll ask you questions when he’s finished.
         “I know you don’t n-need tucking in, but if there’s a little girl up there that you took that’s maybe f-feeling lonely at night, then we give you p-permission to let him tuck her in instead of me.
         “I’ve just got o-one more thing to tell you. G-Grandpa always s-said he doesn’t want a sunny day when he d-dies, and it’s real sunny out today. So please God, make it r-rain for him. Okay? Becky signing off.”
         There was a hushed silence as Becky ran to the window, to check if it was raining yet. Glances were exchanged as her face crinkled up to release a new batch of tears.
         And with that, the service ended.
         He wanted to miss his home, and the loving, devoted wife who lived there. But alas, he could not. His mind filled with questions. Would she sell their house? How would she tend to their large property by herself? Would she move in with one of their kids? He pictured the sturdy ranch house they’d bought just a few years ago, the house they’d turned into a home. Where would HE live now? In this abnormal landscape?
         He turned his thoughts from his earthly home, and was filled with desire to comfort his loving granddaughter. He searched around him for something, anything that could grant Becky’s wish for him.
         He stuck his hand in the water-and the amazing coolness of him nearly made him fall over backwards. He gritted his teeth, and handful by handful began to painstakingly drop water through the void.
         He watched as the first drop fell against the earth.
         He heard the excited shouts of Becky as the rain inched down the funeral home’s windows.
         But now he was tired-it takes a lot to make it rain, he figured.
         Then, the most glorious sound he’d ever heard of filled his ears, and he looked up into the face of the Saviour. He had no time for words, no thought for speaking. He could only gaze upon the face of the Lord.
         The Saviour knelt beside him; He reached down to the stream and let it flow into the void. They watched as rain fell upon that tiny town in a gentle torrent.
         He looked up as the Saviour offered his hand. When their fingers touched, he felt strength like nothing ever before. Suddenly he was alive again, and eagerly awaiting whatever plans the Saviour had for him. He could feel again; he felt nothing but joy. With one last look at Becky delightedly pointing at the rain outside, he clutched the Saviour’s hand.
         The sky split apart, and fell in pieces around them. He took a breath as he was led through the gateways of Heaven. He looked into the Saviour’s eyes, and he knew he was home again.