The Life and Afterlife of Charlie Brackwood (The Brackwood Series Book 1) (17 page)

I asked him why he had watched me on Earth.  Robert looked sad as he told me that by watching me it was almost as though he were living through me.  He felt close also to the parents who had never known him. Earth and the people who lived there were as fascinating to him as they still were to me. Neither of us could break free from the hold the place had on us.

He already knew a lot about me but I knew very little about him so I tried to find out his likes and dislikes, what he was studying at school, what it was like being an orphan, who his friends were and what his plans for the future were.

After I’d realised that his hopes and dreams were very similar to mine while I was alive, he asked me whether I was happy.  The question caught me off guard and I thought carefully about my answer. I slumped in defeat as I was forced to realise the true intensity of the grief I was feeling for my old life. 

“As grateful as I am for this opportunity, and God knows I could’ve ended up somewhere worse than this, I can’t help but feel detached from this world.  Without Lucy I don’t have a purpose, I have no direction, there is nothing for me to work towards, I have no goal…” I felt some of my grief lift as I released the worry that had overtaken me in the last few months. “And the worst of it is, there is no escape from my suffering.  At least on Earth people can find peace in suicide but that isn’t an option here.”

“Unfortunately suicides never find peace after death,” Robert said with sadness in his eyes.  They were the same shade of blue as mine, I saw. “People who kill themselves are banished from this world.  That’s why you need to see this opportunity as a gift, Charlie.”

“A gift?  What kind of gift brings this level of suffering?” 

We both heard the note of irritation in my tone and Robert continued speaking in a low, sympathetic voice.

“I understand you’re suffering but God brought you here for a reason. It’s up to you to figure out what that reason is.  You could do so much for others, Charlie, you just need to realise how lucky you are.”

We fell into an awkward silence as I contemplated what he had told me. 
Why had God taken me?  What was my purpose here?

After a long silence Robert bumped my shoulder in a way that reminded me of Russ.

“If I were you I’d make every effort to gain closure on my old life.  That means saying goodbye, temporarily, to the people you love there.”

I took in and processed these wise words of my little brother’s and after much deliberation realised he was right. I was being selfish and ungrateful.  I had been one of the lucky ones. I might have been taken too early from the living but I had been given a second chance at life and had been reunited with the ones I had missed so greatly after they were taken from me.  It had taken the wise words of a brother I never knew existed to allow me to see the blessings I had.

Never normally one to wallow in self-pity, I made a conscious decision to start making an effort.  What did I have to complain about?  I was surrounded by beauty, I could have anything I wanted at a second’s notice, and no matter how long it took I would see my Lucy again. That last realisation was what spurred me on.     

Slowly but surely I started to rebuild my life, but there was one question that still haunted me.  The only person who could restore my happiness was no longer accessible to me, but what if I could find out how long I had to wait till she returned to me? 

The answer would give me an immense amount of comfort and I would feel in control again.  But what if Lucy didn't believe in the afterlife and assumed my soul had disappeared into nothingness?  What if she didn't believe in a paradise containing long-lost relatives and the love of your life?  She would move on with her own life and forget all about me, she would live her life as though I didn't exist.  But I do, in a completely different world. 

I could hear the joyful sound of children’s laughter as I approached the golden walls.  I felt amazed once again by the resilience of these orphaned children, and marvelled at how expertly they had adapted to their new lives and overcome their unfortunate circumstances.  In a place as lonely as this they found rapture, and I deeply envied them that.  How good it must be to live the simple life of a child, carefree and spirited. 

Listening to their playfulness caused me to reminisce about my own childhood spent with Lucy and Russ.  I was awash with gratitude that I had got to spend such a magical time with them, even through all the ups and downs we had experienced.  My childhood was blessed and I found myself truly grateful for that.

The childish laughter changed to high-pitched squeals as the glorious, golden gates opened to reveal a mob of children, all excited by my rare appearance in their playground.  They buzzed around me like a swarm of bees, filled with energy and enthusiasm.

"Come and kick a ball around with us, Charlie," one boy demanded, eager for my attention.

I marvelled at the fact that even though they had the kind of possessions mortal children could only dream about, a simple football was their toy of choice.  I politely declined and began my search for Timmy, assuming he was lost in the crowd.

Since my descent into the black abyss of depression Timmy's gentle knocks at my door had slowly decreased and eventually, to my regret, ceased altogether. I couldn't blame him for giving up on me and inwardly praised him for his perseverance before even he started to see me as a lost cause.  When the other children had given up trying to raise me from my gloom, Timmy had stuck at it and would visit the treehouse several times a day.

Lately I had been feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt at my treatment of him. The boy had nobody else to depend upon and I realised I had become a source of security for him.  I planned on making it up to him but first I had to find him amongst the eager faces that made up this sea of abandoned children. I searched the mob and eventually spotted him in a corner of the playground, isolated from the rest.  Timmy had crouched down close to the ground, with a fluffy puppy resting on his lap.  I knelt next to him and gave the puppy a tickle behind the ears.

"What is it?" I asked the troubled child.  His big blue eyes evaded mine. He kept his mouth turned down in a sad expression.  He was silent for a long time before my gentle coaxing elicited a response from him.  He still refused to look at me, though, focussing his eyes instead on the puppy that had fallen asleep on his lap.

"Did I do something wrong, is that why you don't want to play with me any more?" he asked me.

I hated myself for deserting him while indulging in self-indulgent, self-pitying thoughts.  Timmy was a delicate, frail child who needed support and encouragement. I knew I had let him down.

"Of course not, Timmy. I just wasn't feeling well and had to get myself better so that I could play with you again."

He looked at me with concern and placed one hand on my shoulder.

"Are you OK now, Charlie?" he asked, in a worried tone.

"I'm all better now.  We can play pirates again, if you want to?"

His face lit up and the hope I saw there melted away a little more of the depression that had seemed to linger around me.

"Why did you think I was upset with you?  Did you think you'd done something wrong?"

He stared at me for a moment and then pulled his jumper up over his head to hide his face, which caused the sleeping puppy to roll off his lap. A sudden urge to laugh rose in my throat and I fought it back down. No matter how humorous the scene before me this was no way to treat a vulnerable child.  Besides, I wanted him to open up to me. There was something about Timmy that indicated secrets were being kept.

"It's OK, Timmy, you can trust me."

He shook his head, still shrouded in the jumper that was his source of security.  Should I leave him alone?  I thought about his fit of panic a few days before.  There was so much I still didn’t know about him.  What had happened in his past life that caused him to have such a problem with heights? Why did he never talk about his family and why was he so eager for adult attention?

I decided to leave him for a while, not wanting to ruin the delicate balance of trust between us by pressurising him.  Besides, I had more urgent matters to attend to and they included the big man Himself.  I made a mental note to find Timmy again on my way out.

The thick, wooden doors already stood open as if beckoning me inside. Was he expecting me?  I stepped into a brightly lit hallway, made even brighter by the sunlight bouncing off the highly polished marble floor. It was long and lined with doors to either side, I guessed the children's bedrooms lay behind these doors and that was why there were so many of them.  On the walls in between the doors hung works of art in lavish gilded frames.  These brightly coloured masterpieces had caught my eye because they were a little different from the norm.  The sloppy brushstrokes and simple scenes had a certain charm about them.  Each and every one had been painted by a child and they decorated the hallway proudly.

An extravagant staircase rose from the floor ahead of me. It branched into two higher up, leading to the east and the west wing of the palace.  I studied the first flight closely and realised that the space under the stairs served as shelving for a mountain of children's books, all wonderfully dog-eared and well-read.  What a place to grow up.

The cheery sound of laughter filled the hallway and I looked around for the man I was desperate to see.

Laughter was coming from the staircase above me and I climbed the stairs in search of its owner.  A door opened on to a landing where a small group of children rushed past me and down the stairs.  Every single one had a grin plastered on their face.  I knew where to find Him.

I noticed a door standing open. I knocked on it and peered into the room. He stood with his back to me, looking out of a large window. 

"Hello, Charlie,” said the man I had encountered only once since finding myself here. I marvelled at the warmth in his voice.

He wasn’t a big man but had a definite presence and an air of authority about him.  He was like everybody's favourite granddad, a kind, caring soul who gave off a powerful sense of acceptance.

"Hi, I've come to…"

He raised a large, wrinkled hand and smiled at me. He seemed secretly amused by something.

"I know why you've come.  You want to ask me some questions about things that have been worrying you, correct?"

"Yes, but how…”

"Come here and stand next to me a while," he said while gently gesturing for me to join him. His pale blue eyes twinkled. I saw reflected in them the scene that was playing out on the other side of the glass.

Warily, I made my way over to the grand floor-to-ceiling window and followed the direction of his gaze.  The scene that confronted was so unexpected I stood in astonished silence.  We were looking down upon an event that was unfolding on Earth.  We were inside what had to be a military tent.  Medical paraphernalia was scattered around on flimsy fold-up tables, and patients of all ages lay propped up on makeshift beds covered by a single sheet. 

A young boy of around Timmy's age squealed in pain while he stared at the mass of congealed blood and burnt flesh that used to be his forearm.  I felt nauseous.  How could He stand to watch this? 

The atmosphere in the tent was charged with urgency and desperation. I watched as a young girl with a broken leg vomited on to the dirty floor.  Taking in the scene and the skin colour of the patients I guessed it was playing out somewhere in Africa, in an atmosphere of fear and violence.  No place for an innocent child.

A young, white female doctor entered the tent and barked orders at the few people wearing scrubs.  She sat with the squealing boy, checked his vital signs, inserted an IV into his arm… and then she did something remarkable.  She sang to him.  For a minute the tension that filled the air was dissolved. The boy listened to the soft, low singing voice of the doctor and before long his eyes were closing and he appeared to be at peace.

I marvelled at the true altruism and bravery of the young doctor.  She appeared stressed and in over her head but her priority was always the patients.  She had undoubtedly put herself in danger by coming to the aid of people who desperately needed it, but despite the risk to herself she couldn’t stand by and let these people suffer.

What I had seen was a simple act of kindness but it was also beautiful and I now understood why His gaze was so proud and unwavering.  Sometimes events on Earth were more of a miracle than people knew. The big man looked at me.

"God sees all," He said in answer to my original question.  God had an ordinary appearance but love and acceptance radiated from Him and I felt a sense of security and protection in His presence.  I could see why the children flocked to Him.

He turned His all-seeing gaze on me

"What can I do for you, Charlie?"

I took a deep breath and prepared to explain what I was doing here.  I needed something from Him.  Answers.  But I was nervous about asking my questions.  I didn’t want to appear ungrateful for my place in the afterlife but I was struggling to let go of my life on Earth.  I needed to know something to make my time here easier.

“I left someone behind on Earth... someone who means a lot to me.  Her name is Lucy and before I crossed over we were about to become husband and wife.” I looked into His pale eyes, aware that my own must have taken on a pleading light and not ashamed of it. “I need to know if I'll see her again, and I don't mean to look down upon from up here. I mean here... with me... in this life. I need to know when that will be."