Light | Teen Ink

Light

January 23, 2013
By Anonymous

Light

“What time is it?” I ask.

“Quarter to six.” Rob replies.

“We still have some time.”

The cool mountain breeze rushes through my wavy hair with incurable intensity. The trees, ever so green, rustle in the distant reaches of my view. They coat my sight with a beautiful intensity; so peaceful, but meaningful. Every tree breathes in the air, pushes it out, gives off air for us. A simple life, so suddenly caught up in the crossfire of modern times. They all suffer from the world’s deeds, the world’s mistakes, the world’s extensiveness. More and more we need, and less and less we acquire. One day it’ll all be gone. Just like me. We’ll all be the wind, the rain, the fire, the water, the air, the sun, the light. It’s all a matter of time.

“I see something.” I say.

“Yeah, me too. Looks like the sun’s coming up. Just what you wanted.” Rob remarks.

“It’s not what I want. It’s what I need.” I reply.

I need The Light. I’m eighty-three years old, near death, in a wheelchair. People say I have nothing to live for anymore. I’m terminally ill, slowly dying inside from years of weariness. The past has been a living hell, and all I can see in my future is hell. That is, if I don’t change it. If I can, I’ll look ahead to what I need, not what I can’t be.
I’ve been an ox my entire life, and I’m not going to give up now. My ailment is my strength, my succumbing is my weakness. That’s to say that I can only live for so much longer. In fact, I can’t predict when it will come. When The Light will pour into my eyes and the soul will slip out of me. It can be any month, any week, any day, any hour, any minute, any second. I know I’m going to die soon. The doctors said so. This week was my last. I’ve lived eighty three years of absolute anguish, and for me, the only appropriate way to end it was to be on top of this mountain. This mountain holds the key to what I’ve been searching for my entire life.

Peace.

I need it to get by. I need it to encumber my spirit with some sort of hope. As of now I feel as hopeless as Romeo seeing how Juliet is dead.

The calm can only make me stronger. I sit next to my caretaker, my best friend, my son. We sit in silence as I think back. Back to better times. He looks around as he grips my wheelchair handle, taking in the view of the glades, the glistening waterfall, the flowing river. You can’t hear anything but that, and feel nothing other than what you see. All senses have fused into one. It’s calm, it’s quiet, and it’s just what I like.

“Rob, I love you.” I say.

“I love you too, Dad.” He says.

“We both know I’m not here much longer.” I say.

“I know. That’s why we’re here, right?”

“Right. Thanks.” I say, looking up at him. I smile weakly and cough. The sound echoes throughout the valley. “Thanks for all you’ve done for me. I know I haven’t been a great father. But these past few weeks have been… Magical.” He smiles and sheds a tear.

“They’ve been indescribable. I never thought we’d be so close, but… I guess that things change, right?”

“Right.” I say. I look straight ahead. Taking in more of the beauty, I nip at my scraggly chin, almost wanting to see what the sky sees, looking down on us pleasant beings.

The sun is rising.

I look in the direction and Rob wheels me towards it.

The Light. It entrances me, envelopes me in its marvelous grip, taking me in one of the most hypnotic trips I’ve ever been. The Light is hot, the beauty is evident. The Light is bold and luminous. I see no end to it, only the beginning of a long trail of infinity. The feeling is one I’ve never felt before. I feel warm, loved, intense. I breathe in heavily. For once in my long years of suffering I don’t cough. I sit and breathe. It feels amazing.
It takes me and all I can see now is my past. My present. My future. I see all the mistakes I’ve made. Messing up in high school. Working day and night to support my family. Sleepless nights. My divorce. When the mistakes have passed I see my success. Having fun with friends. Loving people. Being a daredevil. Living my life. Raising my son. The past few weeks with him. I see my present. My terminal illness. My imminent death. My fragmented lifestyle. My nomadic dreams. In the future I only see Light. Immense Light that engulfs me in its presence, something that is not evident on the planet earth, but that blank white Light that hurts so much it feels good. I begin to feel my pain go away. My soul starts to creep away.

“Rob.” I say.

“Yeah, Dad?” His voice trembles in the midst of the moment.

“It’s time.”

“I know.”

“Let me say some things. Some loose ends I need to tie up.”

“Yes?”

“What I am seeing right now is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced. If you see what you are seeing, it’s just the rising sun. To me, it’s everything that I’ve ever been. I’ve been a slacker. A horrible father. A pawn set up to serve for higher power. But it’s not all negative, see. I see our past few weeks together. I see the times we’ve had. I see all the positive things that I’ve experienced with you. Nothing can take that away from us. Nothing can change the things that we’ve seen or done.”

“Dad?”

“Yes, son.”

“I love you.”

“And I love you.” I say, as my hands begin to tremble.

“It’s time. It’s time for me to leave.” I can’t see his reaction, but I know he accepts it.

I look into the Light once again. It shines brighter than ever, serenading my eyes. For some reason I grunt but feel no pain. I feel my soul creep out against the current of the outside world. I do not see anything or anyone except for the beauty around me; the wildlife, the animals, the beauty and serenity of nature. The warm feeling is greater than ever, and I feel the cold air of the mountain seep away as I am taken by a force of the inevitable. I feel invulnerable while it picks away at my old being and shapes me into a new form. I don’t feel ill. I feel well, to say the least. The hair stands up on my arms and I begin to see my own self, sitting helplessly in front of me. I look like I am in pain, but all I can feel right now is rejuvenation. All of a sudden my body stops moving. The tension on my face is released and the last breath is pushed out of me. Whatever I am now looks behind me. My vision turns to the sun as I fly with unmatched power to meet it.

I’ve lived through life and seen suffering. I’ve been a sufferer. As I look back on what I’ve done and view my life, I don’t feel regret. All the times I’ve thought I regretted only seem to fade away with the mist of the departed. I see new value in the times I’ve suffered. It becomes enjoyable. It’s a new beginning to an untimely end. The years of my growing up have shaped me to be who I am and where I am right now. My life has led up to this moment. I can’t say what happens next, but I know that wherever I am, wherever I go, whatever I become, it will form my new body. My new vision. My new self. My new being.

I travel closer and closer. In a distant area I hear crying—I feel tears hitting the ground and the soft sounds of someone who just lost a loved one. I look back, seeing my son crept over my body sobbing with anguish. It’s frightening to see the regret that he has encountered. He looks at my figure and ceases his sadness. I let my love flow into him and I look back towards the Light. All of a sudden, he is happy. Only this time, I know I can move on. I let go of the past. I can’t stay any longer. My future calls.

The Light engulfs me.

I am complete.


The author's comments:
I've always liked writing stories about last moments in people's lives. Last moments are something that people cherish forever, and I wanted to capture that as best as I could.

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