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One does not truly believe until they see, and what they see isn't necessarily readily accepted. It's human nature not to fear what we do not know or believe in, even though what we do not believe in undoubtedly exists. Those who do not fear death do so because they do not believe in death. For them, death is only a link to their higher ground, towards the beauty that exists in us all. But what of those who don't believe in this? Do they spend their lives forever in the shadows of knowledge, never knowing that perhaps what they see isn't necessarily all that they know? For some of us, we spend our entire lives never knowing what life really is. Sometimes, all it takes is one inconsequential event to alter our view of the world.
"May God rest his soul." The priest finished the ceremony, and the casket was slowly being lowered into the frost-covered ground to its final resting place becoming a part of the community, yet spending the rest of eternity alone. It had only taken one lethal dose of heroin and a disturbed and lonely mind for all his dreams to come undone. All that she could remember was feeling so alone, standing outside apart from a group of nosy onlookers with a bitter wind blowing at her back, watching her brother's cold, lifeless body being scraped off the pavement six floors below his hospital room. She had touched his face or what was left of it, as they carried him out on the stretcher, and she couldn't help the tears from falling. Somewhere in the distance, a bird chirped happily, sitting atop the solemn group of poplars that lined the horizon. They were alone, marching together. It seemed as though the paradoxical idea of her utopian life had been shattered after his death.
But now, there days after the look of her contorted brother's body had been etched in her mind forever, her emotional view of death had not changed. Twenty one years, four months, three days, four hundred and forty minutes: a lifetime cut too short. Six seconds . . . that's all it took for an existence to come to an end. What's wrong with me? Why hasn't this registered yet? She had cried when she had seen him immediately after his death, but it was more so out of disgust instead of real human emotion, something she wondered if she even possessed at times. She was thankful that she did believe in God. Perhaps that had something to do with the fact that it seemed she had accepted her brother's death before it had even happened. Technically, he's in a better place, although he didn't necessarily believe in that better place. I don't think that he was made for this world. But for her, it just seemed so surreal, like her brother would come back in the morning after a long vacation from home, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened at all. It was as though it was only yesterday that she had had that perplexing conversation with her brother.
“Will you remember me, when I die?” her brother asked her as she sat on his lumpy bed and stared out the window. “I know that I don’t believe in God, or in fate. I’m not like you. I don’t give in to faith mind, body and soul like you do, and so what’s going to happen might be hard for you to understand. “Fate”, as you would say, eventually catches up with us all.”
At that point in time, her attention towards her brother faltered, but she replied to humour him, “Of course I will.” But in her mind, she was thoroughly confused. What was my brother rambling on about? Her brother completely mystified her sometimes, but she was thankful for the time she could spend with him. Steve had spent the last year in a desolate drug rehabilitation clinic for his abundant drug use, and she prayed to God every night that he should be spared every hardship that he encountered. What worried her more was whether or not he had once again started to abuse. She remembered the first time that her and her parents had found out about the heroin, and all the emotion from that moment came back to her.
“Steve, let me see your arms.” She had risen to her knees and asked him in a calm, yet domineering voice that commanded a response. Reluctantly, he rolled up his stained sleeve, and she could see the somewhat fresh track marks that ran all along the discoloured inside of his weak arm. “No Steve, not again, you promised that you were done with this, you promised me!” Her face was so full of rage that she was hyperventilating. She was about to graduate from high school, top honours, and to her life was only beginning. I could never imagine throwing my life away at the age of eighteen, never mind twenty one. He’s wasting his life!
“I haven’t broken that promise, I swear! And besides, what do I have to live for anyway? Sophie, me and you are so different from each other. You are the intelligent one, the on who knows everything. Life is just . . . easier for you,” With this, he met her eyes and took her by the hand, “But look at me; I’m your absolute opposite. Usually, I can barely even string a sentence together! . . . I can’t think straight. That’s why I turned to the heroin. It helped me Sophie, it really did.” He had to stop for a moment, for there were silent tears streaming down his face. “But now I realize, “What’s the point?” It’s one of the biggest reasons why I’m off it. My perception of the world changed, and even I don’t understand it. But I see now that there’s so much more than what we think there is, and Sophie, you’re so close to reaching that other place if only you’d open your eyes.”
When he had finished, she squeezed his hand and gave him a hug. The look that he gave her was one of pure innocence, but Sophie couldn’t conquer that feeling in the pit of her stomach, telling her that all he was saying was an outcome of a drug induced hallucinatory mind.
It was true; she thought as she stood, feet planted beside the hole where her brother lay, now that she remembered what had happened that night. Frequently, she could barely understand what he was trying to tell her, but that night, he hadn’t been himself. She played with the idea that perhaps she should have listened more carefully to what he wasn’t saying. It’s almost as though there was something important in what he was trying to convey to me, but of course, there’s no hidden meaning under the surface. There never is. Sadly, Sophie didn’t realize this until she was too late to ever save herself.
In time, the crowd that had attended her brother’s funeral dispersed in sombre waves of blackness, but Sophie remained, ever vigilant that maybe her brother would come up behind her and tell her that everything was going to be okay. In her ever logical mind, she knew that this was never going to happen, but in the very depths of her soul where she rarely went was a longing for something that was lost.
The wind whistled in her ears and ran like fingers through her hair, but Sophie didn’t move. She just sat there, watching every feeble blade of grass be given life from the wind. They’re free. The shadows that the trees made only added to the wildness of her imagination. There was so many things that she wanted to ask him. How’s you life? What’s it like there? It is all that you want it to be? Does it hurt when you think about me? But she knew that none of them would be answered. After awhile, she put her hands in her pockets, and felt something folded. She pulled it out, and heard her brother’s voice through the photograph that she normally carried in her wallet.
“Sophie, Sophie, I’m here . . .” he seemed to say, but when she looked up, she realized it was only her mother waving in the distance, beckoning her to come home, the wind altering what she was saying. Sophie rose to her feet, took one last look at her brother’s resting place, and never looked back.
Days passed, weeks passed, and Sophie never once again thought of her brother. In her mind, what was done was done. When friends, teachers or acquaintances asked her how she was doing, how she was coping, she just shrugged and said, “How would you feel?” That generally ended the conversation pretty quickly. She couldn’t understand what the big deal was. Yeah, he’s dead, so what? What do they expect from me? He’s dead, and that’s the end of it. Literally.
At school, everyone treated her differently, like a special package that had to be handled with care. But then again, at home, it was like her parents had completely forgotten that her brother had existed, as though what had happened had relieved them from their responsibilities of taking care of a sick child. And it did . . . that made her sick. Everything was so different now, and there was absolutely nothing that she could do to change it. She was starting to realize how final death really was.
Even with all the intelligence that she possessed, her mind couldn’t really put together the complexity of it all, and she desperately needed an outlet, some way to see what her mind couldn’t register. Things that she loved now became repetitive and just plain boring. Sophie needed to clear her head, so she left her house with her sketchpad and started walking down her dimly lit walkway towards the busy intersection. When she reached it, she sat down at one of the bus stop benches facing the hill that led to a hockey arena on the other side, with a train station located below it. This was one of her favourite things to do. She loved to see the trains going by, hear the cheers that came from the outdoor rink and just smell the city. To just be a part of it all, all minds inter-connected, thinking on the same wave length. Through everything, she had always had the city, as though it belonged to her. Her rock, something that was always there, that she could depend on. But that night, something was different, something had changed. Suddenly, the city felt claustrophobic, like there was some void of communication. She didn’t want to watch the trains, hear the cheers or smell the city. It all made her sick now. She needed a release. She no longer belonged to the city.
Without thinking, she got up and hopped on the first bus that made its way to her stop, and headed all the way to the bus terminal. When she arrived at the first wicket, all she said was, “I need to leave the city.” And simply, she left. She didn’t know where she was going, or why, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she got there.
Forty five minutes later, the bus ride ended, and she was surprised to find out that she knew where she was. It was somewhere that her and her family used to go camping before everything happened. The woods were so quiet, so serene, so real, and to Sophie, each tree seemed to want to listen to every thought that she wanted to share. It was just better here. She sat down on a rock, looked out towards the horizon, and something just clicked. She picked up her sketchbook and began to write.
A month had passed, and Sophie often returned to her spot in the woods. Her writing became a sort of therapy, but put her emotional well-being through a downward spiral. In a sense, it opened her eyes, and she could see now see the forest through the trees. Though she may not have seen it, her marks slipped drastically and even if she had known, she wouldn’t have cared. Through her writing, it was as though she had lost faith in God by exploring things she had never thought possible, and she wondered whether or not she had ever had faith in the beginning. Her hours consisted of her simply wondering why. About creation, existence, finality . . . she often wondered, “What was the point?” Her outlook on life had suddenly turned from piety to almost a certain kind of existential being.
Her friends noticed her change as well. Krista was the most concerned, for her and Sophie had been friends since the beginning. They had shared every experience. Every low, every high. But ever since her brother’s death, Krista detected that there was so much more underneath Sophie’s façade that made everyone believe that everything was alright. Sophie needed her now, just like she needed Sophie when her parents were divorced. Such a trivial thing compared to the death of your brother, Krista thought whenever she remembered the incredible bond that her and Sophie shared. Usually, in any situation, Sophie was the brains behind the operation, and Krista was the emotional support. This was the first time that Krista had ever had to come up with anything involving the two of them on her own, and trying to cheer up Sophie was going to be hard.
After a long day of thinking, Krista joined Sophie in the hallway after school and waved as she went up to greet her, trying to catch her before she went back home to her hermetic lifestyle.
“Oh, hey there Krista,” The monotonous tone that Sophie gave was definitely not one that gave Krista the confidence that she needed to continue, but she mustered up the courage after a silent moment.
“Listen Sophie . . . I was wondering,” She paused, took a breath, then kept going, “Danny’s having a prom after party at his cottage, and I’d love it if you’d come. Sophie, it’s been so long . . .”
Sophie interrupted her, and almost left her dead on the spot with her joyful response. “Yeah, I’d love to come! You’re right, it has been long time, and hey, if it’s at his cottage, it has to be something special, right?” As she said the words, her face brightened and she smiled a smile that was contagious.
The next week, Sophie seemingly changed back to her original self. The entire time, her friends thought that it was too good to be true, but were immensely happy that Sophie was Sophie again. It seemed to them all that life was almost back to normal, like it was before the death of Sophie’s brother.
They spent almost every living, breathing moment together getting ready for what seemed to them to be the most important event of their life up until this point. An entire evening was spent at so many different dress shops they lost count, but what was more important was that they were blissful. The last shop they entered was called Le Papillion. It was there that Sophie found her dress. In her mind, it was beautiful, and was the epitome of what Sophie was. She tried it on, and did a spin in front of the mirror. The lights shone off of the sequins on the creamy yellow dress like little rays of sunshine, and matched the twinkle in her eyes as she got ready for the big night.
Post prom, the excitement that they shared could not be contained. Arriving by limo to the party, they all sat in awe of the magnificent cottage that stood in front of them. It was too beautiful for words. It stood high atop a cliff, and down below the moonlight shone on the rippling water like a million ballerinas all dancing together in unison. This is incredible. Sophie climbed out of the limo into the crisp air, not knowing that she was experiencing one of the last incredible moments of her life.
After they all climbed out of the white limo together, they went their separate ways, except for Sophie and Krista, catching up for the last time with people they would most likely never see again in their lives. It’s a humbling feeling, yet so ironic at the same time. We all pretend to be friends, pretend to care about each other, just to humour one another. It’s just all so superficial. Do any of these people actually mean anything to any of us? Will something they have done affect us so profoundly that we will change our ways, and see the world in a different way? She sighed, grabbed a drink for her and Krista, and they headed up the second floor to find some solitude and time to think.
When they reached the top, they sat down on opposing couches and just sat there. Krista was the first to break the silence. “You know Sophie, I never thanked you for what you did for me, back when my parents were getting a divorce. I don’t know what I would have done without having someone there to help me.”
“It was nothing Krista, really,” was all Sophie replied. But in her mind, she was in deep thought. Maybe my whole idea of superficiality wasn’t so justified.
For a few moments more, they once again sat in silence, but this time, it was Sophie who was the one who broke the silence.
“You know Krista, I’ve had a lot of time to think about things since my brother died. There’s just been so much time. And you know, when I think back, it’s almost as though her was trying to tell me something. I think that what he did was pre-meditated. If I had only listened to what he wasn’t saying instead if what he was saying, I would have realized it, and maybe have been able to do something about it. But, it’s as though what he did has helped me open my eyes to something. Maybe one person can affects us profoundly, through life or death, that we will want to change our ways, or see the world in a different light. He taught me to see.” Sophie sighed, folded her hands together and looked towards the hardwood flooring at her feet. Krista just continued to look at her, intent on absorbing every single world that came out of Sophie mouth. Good, Sophie thought, this needs to come out.
“I used to accept that everything was the way it was, with no underlying beauty. My mind was seeing in a one dimensional world, only on one plane of thinking. I just accepted it. But now I realize that there’s something deeper, more . . . complex. The mind believes what it sees and accepts it; but the soul longs for that higher ground, for that profound mysticism that allows us to question all that we know to be “real”. The soul cries out for the absolute beauty that few ever get to experience. I used to think that ignorance was bliss, but that is certainly not the case. If a man had spent his entire life in happiness, but never left his home and did not experience anything, would he be truly happy? But, if you showed this man, and let him experience, on his deathbed, what he had been without, would he not now long for what he overlooked? And now that he had experienced what he had missed, what he had failed to see, he could never go back.” At this, Krista nodded in agreement.
“So, the question is: is it better to have “loved and lost than to have never have loved at all?” In my mind, I think that we all need to experience and live every possible thing that we can. Knowledge is the path to enlightenment, and is the only true way in which we can see the world with both eyes open. In any other way, we are seeing with both eyes wide shut. We are clay that was meant to be melded through our experience, reflection and inner communication. We were meant to live for so much more. Where we are now is only the beginning.”
Krista now sat across from her, utterly perplexed. This is absolutely incredible. Most people were jealous of the intelligence that oozed out of the mind of Sophie, but until this moment, Krista had never realized the maturity and wisdom that her small amount of years portrayed.
“Scepticism and demand for proof has become enlightened thought. Is it any mystery that we feel more defeated and depressed than ever before? It frightens me that it took the death of my own brother to open my eyes to the world. He never thought that he was good enough, that I was always superior to him. But in reality, he was the only one that could genuinely see what we were all missing, to what we all looked at with blind eyes. He was the only one that could truly see the beauty in life.”
“But now I understand, I see, I know all. I’m ready for that enlightened place, ready to experience what few of us every get to experience. There’s nothing else for me to learn.” Sophie finished, and felt like a thousand pounds had been lifted off her back. But now, she realized, she was ready. She stood up and casually left the room.
On the receiving end, Krista had just received so much information that she didn’t know how to process. She just sat there, dumbfounded. A few moments later, as if a light had turned on, she realized what was about to happen, and bolted out of the chair.
Before Krista had reached her, she had jumped, and nobody was there to hear the splash that her body had made when she hit the water. In the wee hours of the night, the only thing that could be heard was the music, slowly fading away into the distance.
It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right
I hope you had the time of your life
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