Quote(s) of the Week

Choosing Happiness via http://www.thegreatfitnessexperiment.com

Optimism is the faith that leads to achievement. Nothing  can be done without hope and confidence

– Hellen Keller

Optimism is the madness of insisting that all is well when we are miserable

-Voltaire

Unfinished Business

That was it. Ghabrielle was sick of life and now she knew that she had to do something about it. There was so much lying, so much wickedness, so much pain here. The world reeked of tears for her and she could only hope in vain for release. She was left alone in her room for that moment, and she grabbed for her writing book with amazing clear sight. She could not even cry. She decided to write a passage addressed to the world.

Have you ever envied the dead? The flowers? The stones? The very clouds above? I have. The dead are done, no more to suffer what I suffer. The flowers live and die with only one goal, and feel no sorrow when they fail. The stones have no thoughts, nothing is expected of them. The clouds drift around until they become rain, never caring because water cannot care. I envy these things because no one can fault them for what they are. They are natural manifestations of beauty and routine. The only things we have in common are that we do not cry, we just go through the motions and we have the same Creator. So much is wanted of me that I fear to give even a little, but dare I hold back? Dare I preserve myself? No. I daren’t. I am to die fully expended and dry. There will be nothing left of me and no one will mind. Even as a human, a supposed child of Him, I am, in all fairness, an abused non-entity without hope of citizenship in the land of the happy.

Ghabrielle looked at her sloping handwriting thoughtfully. It was time to make a change. All this pain had to go away at some point, the only difficulty was bringing the point closer. If only I could die before I manage to fail completely. Ghabrielle almost smiled at this point, but her eyes couldn’t lie. Something sinister was brewing, a jailbreak.

It could have been days after, it could have been weeks after but Ghabrielle saw that jailbreak as clear as one might see an ink spot on white paper. She was walking down the street slowly, glancing up from her feet ever so often to make sure she didn’t crash into a post. A short woman was walking with three young children struggling to get away from her. She held two with one hand, one in the other. Ghabrielle may have grown cold to her own emotions but she pitied those who struggled. She was about to cross the wide road to help her when a large truck came barreling down the street much too fast, the horn blaring in warning. The brakes must be out. Noting the danger, Ghabrielle didn’t move but one of the toddlers did. Taking advantage of his caretaker’s distraction, he slipped his hand out of hers and ran into the street, out of the sight of the driver trying to control the truck. He smiled gleefully at his escape and yelled at the truck “No honk! No honk!”. The woman released the other children to run after him but the other two ran in separate directions and she had to secure them first.

Suddenly, the course of action was very clear. The woman wouldn’t be able to save the adorable little child. Time seemed to slow for a moment and then Ghabrielle thought of the grief and guilt that would ensue. Not if I have anything to do about it. She dropped her shoulder bag and made a leap for the child to shove him out of the way, but there was not enough time. He let out a shriek when the truck was just about upon him. The shriek was cut off suddenly. Ghabrielle had sprung into action and pushed him between two cars on the sidewalk but couldn’t pass herself. She almost smiled when the impact hit. It’s finally over.

The force of the hit flung her like a ragdoll forward. The gathered crowd was screaming and warning drivers at the busy intersection below. Before someone could move her, or she could move herself, the truck rolled upon Ghabrielle at an odd angle. The driver had tried to swerve. It only hurt for a moment the suddenly all the pain went away. Besides her hands, Ghabrielle couldn’t move. Most of her spine was crushed, most of her ribs were broken beyond repair. If her body hadn’t released the natural painkiller more potent than morphine (opiorphin), she would have felt the splinters of bone in her lungs, quickly piercing through their walls. She might have even felt her heart being squeezed beyond function. But Ghabrielle was strong, she didn’t black out immediately. Her hands were close to her head where they had tried to collect the impact. The world began to grow dark as Ghabrielle felt a growing liquid pool around her head. In her last moments of consciousness, she said a silent Act of Contrition.

People swarmed her body feeling for a pulse that wasn’t there. The death was quick. The little boy was safe but screaming uncontrollably. He was too young to understand his fault but he understood that the twisted body wouldn’t get up again. By the time Ghabrielle’s mother arrived and the ambulance came, she had already become cold. The truck’s swerve had angled it to come to a screeching halt some distance on the flat below the incline. The driver was only slightly injured. Ghabrielle saw all this through a new consciousness, that of a spirit.

Ghabrielle saw what happened after her death, she even attended her funeral. She saw other spirits waiting to move on. She met an angel who told her that after she did what she wanted to, she would be free. There was no sadness for Ghabrielle anymore, no expectations of her and no way for her to fail. At her funeral, Ghabrielle drifted around watching those who came. She whispered consoling words to the crying. I am still with you. She noted with cold interest the lack of tears from her mother. To her, it didn’t matter anymore who she disappointed. After this, she was wandering around, wondering what the angel was referring to. She had already visited her loved ones to help them cope. She had even manifested herself before some of them to finish business.

After about a year of this peaceful going around, she had exposed to her closest safe havens where she hid her half-written notes of despair. All the secrets she wanted known were known, those she did not were not. Then, on the anniversary of her death, at her memorial (hosted by her best friends), she decided to visit her grandmother’s grave. She sat there and her grandmother’s spirit appeared beside her as an angel. “What are you still doing here my child? Dear Gabby, your time came too soon but you mustn’t dwell here. He’s waiting, you know. We’re all waiting for you, up there.”

“Another angel told me that when I’ve done what I have to do, I’ll move one. I don’t know what to do. I’ve visited almost everyone. I’ve even told my friends where to find my poetry books. Everything is set, I think.” Ghabrielle sighed, she was happy enough but she wasn’t sure what to do then. Her grandmother had been her rock during her life and she was just happy to see her again. Through all the hurt, her grandma had been there with comfort.

“Have you visited your mother dear child? I watched how things went after I left and I understand that she hurt you. But you have to settle things. I know you haven’t done that, dear.” Ghabrielle looked sheepish. Her grandmother was right. She had even appeared to her father on one occasion to tell him where she has hidden his would-be birthday gift. But never her mother. “I’ll go, gran. Maybe then I’ll move on.” Ghabrielle made rounds again that day, telling all those she had spoken to that she was moving on, that
maybe she’d be an angel, that maybe she would  come back to visit, that she would still be in their hearts.

Then, she visited her mother. “Mother, I’m here. I came to say goodbye. I’m moving on today, I think.” Her mother looked at her tiredly, unsure of what she was seeing. “My mind must be playing tricks on me again. Ghabrielle is long gone. Whatever you want of me, make it quick. I don’t want to hear of her anymore.” Ghabrielle’s translucent face crumpled. “It’s me. I’ve been in limbo for a year now, it’s an alternative to purgatory, I think.” “You sound just like her. Ghabrielle. Maybe it’s you. What do you want now, come to torture your poor mother?” Ghabrielle felt horrible. She would never have haunted her mother. She wouldn’t even have visited if she knew she was unwanted. She had always that it impossible to speak/think ill of the dead.

“I just came to say I forgive you. I don’t mind that you hurt me anymore. It makes being dead feel good,” her form started to become more transparent already. Her mother stared forward dumbly. “I did what I had to! You were weak!” she replied a little angrily. Ghabrielle tilted her head to the side. “There’s nothing I can do here. I came to make peace but I think you have to make peace with yourself. I’ll come back in some time if I can. I still love you, I think,” Ghabrielle was nothing but a voice now, having realized that there was nothing more she could do to make her mother accept her. “One more thing, can you name the little boy you’re going to have after the one I saved? Ethan.” Ghabrielle was gone and in the silence that ensued, her mother touched her stomach lightly.  I guess it can’t hurt. He’ll be stronger than she was. He’ll be Ethan.