Episode 032 - It's Just a Gimmick - Part 7

In the last episode, after going through some of the difficulties I had experienced as I returned to school after my father's sudden death, I mentioned three things that had helped me start to return to my normal life – the birth of my brother's son, just six weeks after my father's death, the mysterious resolution of my aunt's missing money, and my grandfather's remarkable transformation while leading the Seder, exactly four months after my father's funeral. As a lead-in to today's episode, let me repeat the last episode's ending.  "So, three small, but significant events had a deeply positive effect on me and opened my eyes to more light. But they were nothing compared to what was coming next." Of course, I continued saying the Mourner's Kaddish, keeping the promise I had made to my father. We joined the synagogue near our house, and my brother and I went there every morning and night, seven days a week. Around mid-May, my brother was about to graduate from law school and had to get ready to take the bar exam. There was a three-part prep course, but it was only held at night, which meant he would have to miss services. He was unhappy about it, but there was nothing he could do.   So, the first night of the course became the first time he didn't make it to synagogue. I went without him, came home as usual, did my homework, and eventually went to bed. I have no recollection of getting tired or falling asleep. I was just lying there, and the next thing I knew, I found myself back in the chapel of the synagogue once again. And I started reliving the same exact events that had just happened a few hours earlier. It was like an instant replay, but instead of watching it, I was reliving it. Just like before, services ended, and I walked out of the chapel. But this time, when I entered the main lobby, I heard a sharp sound. "Psst! Psst!" It came from my left. I looked over at the dark corner near the sanctuary doors and suddenly, my father stepped out of the shadows.   Amazed, I walked right over to him. As I got closer, he gave me a warm smile and I was struck by how great he looked. He was wearing a gray suit with a purple shirt. The collar was opened, and he had a dark, healthy suntan like he had been in the Caribbean or Hawaii for a few months. He also seemed a little younger, with slightly more hair, which was slicked back. In short, he looked tremendous. "Where's Michael?" he asked, as soon as I got close.   "Oh, he couldn't come tonight," I said. "He has to study for the bar exam. They're having a cram course, and tonight's the first class." "Oh, right, right. That's good," he said, sounding like he knew exactly what I was talking about. "He'll pass it. He'll do fine. He's going to become a lawyer, and he'll go right into the practice. Everything's going to work out well for him." Then he got a little serious. "But, watch out for your sister, though," he said soberly. "She's not doing so great." "Sybil?" I wondered.  "What's the matter with Sybil?" I didn't say anything, but as I thought about it, I remembered that she had never shown any emotion after he died. She had been extremely stoic, always stone-faced, never crying or even shedding a tear. Maybe that had something to do with whatever it was he was talking about. "Oh yeah," I said. "She didn't show any emotion after you d—" I was just about to say the word died, when the impossibility of what was happening hit me like a ton of bricks. Suddenly I remembered the truth of the matter – that he was, in fact, dead. I guess I had been so glad to see him, I hadn't realized it at first. But now it all came rushing came back into me. The reason I hadn't seen him for all this time wasn't that he had been away on a tropical island. It was because he had dropped dead on the floor of the Boston Garden six months earlier. He was long since dead and buried, and yet here he was, standing in the synagogue lobby, talking to me like everything was normal.   "Wait a minute, wait a minute," I exclaimed. "What are you doing here? You're dead!" "No," he said, with a slight chuckle. "No, no. That wasn't real." "What?" I asked.  "It was just a trick," he replied. "It wasn't real." "What do you mean, it wasn't real?" I shot back, a little perturbed. "Of course, it was real!" How could he say it wasn't real? It was the worst thing that had ever happened to me. Everything about it was a nightmare. Our family was completely devastated, and since then, we had gone through month after month of relentless pain. I wished to God it wasn't real, but unfortunately, it was as real as it gets.  "You died. You're dead," I blurted out, even more upset. "It was terrible. There was this big funeral, and everyone was hysterical. It was awful" A rush of pain welled up inside of me. "It was horrible. You died! We buried you and you're dead!" I was ready to break down in tears. But then, just like old times, he made his familiar gesture and held up his right hand, signaling me to calm down and listen to him. Just seeing him do it made me feel a little better. "It wasn't real," he said, calmly. "It was just a trick."  "What are you talking about?" I asked, bewildered. "A trick. You know a stunt, a gimmick." I still had no idea what he meant but I didn't say anything.   "Listen to me," he said, sympathetically. "There is no death. It's just a public-relations stunt God does to get people to think about him. It's just a gimmick. That's all it is. It's not real." I didn't know what to say. There was absolutely, positively no question about the fact that he had died. It was irrefutable. And yet here he was—alive and well, happy and healthy, telling me it was all just a stunt. As confident as ever, he certainly looked like he knew what he was talking about. He looked great. In fact, I'd never seen him look better. "See?" he said, with a smile. "It's all just a trick." Then he added, "Some trick!"   At that point, my mind went blank. I don't think I could think anymore, and frankly, I didn't care. It was just such a relief to be with him again and listen to him explain something to me. It didn't matter if I understood it or not.        As I looked at him, I realized I had forgotten how much I really missed him. I hadn't seen him for six months. It had been an eternity of constant pain and I had gotten used to it. But now, alive or dead, we were back together again, and the pain was gone. I was happy and felt like my old self - two long-lost and long- forgotten feelings. "I see you're wearing my ring," he said, looking down at my right hand. He used to wear a black star sapphire pinky ring that he got when he went to the Japan Olympics to sign Luke Jackson. My mother gave it to me after he died, and I wore it every day. "Listen," he said somewhat soberly. "The stone in that ring has a vibration that's bad for your body. I don't want you to wear it anymore." I didn't say anything. Then his face lit up.  "Hey! I've got an idea," he said. "Since I never really died, why don't you give it back to me?" Without giving it a second thought, I took the ring off and held it up between the thumb and forefinger of my right hand. He reached up and held it exactly the same way. I thought he was going to take it, but he didn't. Instead, we both stood there, holding the ring between us, like a statue. After a moment, I felt it start to vibrate. Then, like an instrument being tuned to a higher note, something within me quickened. The ring began to glow, getting brighter by degrees until eventually, the whole room was filled with a brilliant light. But it was more than just a light. I could sense a presence to it, a beauty that was extremely comforting. And it felt familiar to me as well, like I knew it from somewhere - another time and place from long before my memory began.    I felt myself being slowly pulled into it, as though it had its own field of gravity. It got stronger, like the current of a river nearing the ocean, and the light got even brighter. The more light I saw, the lighter I felt, along with a deep sense of happiness and joy. It was intoxicating. And finally, an all-encompassing love enveloped me, and I lost contact with space and time. I have no idea how long it lasted, but I finally began to regain awareness of my body. There was a gentle transition, almost like the physical world gelled into reality around me and I realized I was laying in my bed, wearing my pajamas. It took a little more time, but I soon realized it had all been just a dream. Soon, I was completely back in the real world. Obviously, my life was unchanged, and my father was still dead. Naturally, I was disappointed. As fulfilling as the experience had been, the whole thing was just a fantasy my mind had created in my sleep. Even so, it had been a deeply wonderful experience to feel happy again. It was the first time since the night he died, that the heavy burden I felt was lifted from my heart. For those few moments, I had gotten to be my old self again. I had completely forgotten the way life used to be, before my road had turned, and I had come upon the Vale of Tears. So that's the end of this episode. It all goes one level deeper in the part of the story that's coming. As always, keep our eyes, mind and heart open, and let's get together in the next one.