The Guardian of Threshold (30 page)

Had I known how terrible and unforgettable that day truly was, I wouldn’t have had so much fun.

I only started to realize something was terribly wrong when night-time came and my mother never returned from work. It was strange to see the house full of family members, and yet the one person I’d been looking forward to see come home so I could say I was sorry never did.

I remember asking my grandmother when my mother would be coming home and not receiving a response. Instead, she rushed out of the room, covering her face with her hands. I thought that I had done something wrong to make her sad.

Shortly after that, instead of having my night-time routine with my mother, I was stuck taking a bath in front of my grandfather while my dad was nowhere to be found.

I remembered asking my grandfather about my dad’s whereabouts, and all he would say was that my dad was taking care of some very important things and that he shouldn’t be much longer.

I laid in bed, and my grandmother sat next to me to read me a bedtime story. She wasn’t as good a storyteller as my mom was. She would often stop reading and just stared silently into the air, but eventually I feel asleep.

That night, strange dreams haunted me. I woke up in the middle of the night with my forehead covered in cold sweat and shaking uncontrollably. I was very cold. I’d been dreaming about being stuck on a frozen wasteland all alone, crying for my mother as the cold snow fell heavily around me. I was soon covered in so much snow that it was impossible to move.

That was the first time in my life that I’d had a nightmare. Unfortunately, from that point on, they would plague my life. It was a rare occasion that I could sleep peacefully without having some sort of night-tremor or nightmare.

I was only able to fall back asleep that night after my father rushed into my room. Apparently I had let out a terrified scream, but my father was able to put my mind at ease, and once my tears dried up, I fell asleep again.

The next morning, I woke up to the sweet smell of homemade apple pie in the air. In my innocence, I immediately assumed my mother had returned in the middle of the night and cooked my favorite desert to make it up to me. Nothing could have prepared me for the deception I was about to encounter.

I rushed down the stairs still in my pajamas. I was disappointed and surprised to discover that some family members were still around.

I entered the kitchen and found that it was filled with even more people than the day before. Everyone but my mother seemed to be there. Even cousins I didn’t know.

Both sets of grandparents were sitting at the table, having breakfast together, which was a sight I had never seen before. I was used to seeing only one of them at a time because my mother’s parents lived in Florida and were too old to travel—at least that was what she used to tell me.

As I walked into the kitchen, everyone stopped whatever they were doing to stare at me. The kitchen became suddenly quiet. Grandpa Billy got up and came over to talk to me.

“Mark, how about you spend the day playing with your new friends? What’re their names again? Jonas and Carla, isn’t it?” Grandpa Billy asked as he lifted me up. “Come, let’s go get dressed, then I’ll take you there.”

While we headed back upstairs, I looked back and waved to all my cousins.

After I was dressed, Grandpa Billy led me across the street to the Weber’s house, where I found the boy named Jonas and his beautiful sister Carla ready, willing, and waiting to play with me.

On the Weber’s living room floor, there was a maze of empty moving boxes waiting for us, boxes that in our skilled hands and minds turned into castles, fortresses, and spaceships. And for the second strangest day of my life we built houses, stores, robots, and whole planets, and we had a ball doing it. But in the back of my mind, I felt anxious. Something was troubling me; something lurked in the shadows. At one point, I even thought I saw something hiding in the darkest corner.

Time flew, as it usually did when we were having fun, and soon it was lunchtime. We ate inside a rather large and empty box that we proudly named the Great Boxy Inn. The special of the day was homemade mac ‘n’ cheese, which had been carefully prepared by Mrs. Weber.

We spent the rest of the afternoon playing, but every once in a while I felt sad for no apparent reason.

It wasn’t long before it was dinnertime. Dinner was also served at the Great Boxy Inn, but our meal was less than satisfactory because the only item on the menu that night was a yucky minestrone soup. Jonas threw a tantrum and asked for something else. After much complaining, he was finally able to persuade Mrs. Weber to serve us peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

It was getting late when the phone rang at the Weber’s house. After a short conversation, Mrs. Weber told me I would be spending the night with Jonas and Carla. Apparently, my dad was still taking care of some important stuff. Although I didn’t understand why, I was happy to spend more time with my two new friends.

That evening, the Great Boxy Inn was moved upstairs, and I slept comfortably inside it. Mrs. Weber made sure I had a very comfortable sleeping bag and plenty of fluffy comforters. I didn’t know it at the time, but that night would be the last night I would sleep peacefully.

I woke up the following morning feeling fully rested. I remember having very pleasant dreams in which I was flying and holding on to my mother’s hand. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t remember her exact words. It was something like, “Don’t worry, Son. Everything will be okay as long as you follow your heart.” She seemed to be saying good-bye. Her forehead glowed, and I thought it was the sun hitting her face, but I quickly realized the light was coming from within her.

While we were having breakfast, the doorbell rang, and I ran as quickly as I could to the living room window to see who it was. I hoped it was my mother, but deep down I knew it wasn’t. It was my dad, dressed in a black suit and overcoat. He had a big black umbrella in his large hands. The weather outside was rainy and foggy, and judging by how cold the glass was, it was very cold outside.

“Good morning, here’s my big boy,” said my dad as he came over and hugged me. “I got a present for you,” he said as he handed me a bag.

I grabbed the bag and quickly emptied its contents onto the carpet. Inside there was a small suit and a tie. I remember not liking that present at all.

“Son, you need to get dressed. I don’t want us to be late,” he said.

“But, Dad, I want to stay and play,” I replied.

“You can’t, we have to be somewhere,” my dad said as he picked up my clothes from the floor.

“Mark, Jonas and Carla will be there too. As a matter of fact, kids go upstairs and get dressed. I have some clothes on top of your beds,” Mrs. Weber said, clapping her hands in a futile attempt to speed them up.

“Mom, I’m not done with my breakfast yet,” Jonas complained with his mouth full.

“Now, Jonas. We don’t have much time.”

“Mark, come, I’ll help you get dressed,” my dad said as he grabbed my hand before I could complain.

He took me to the Weber’s guest room and dressed me in those stiff clothes. I hated the way they felt, but I was told that I had to wear them, and the worst of it was that they were cold. Thankfully, my dad had brought my black winter jacket, because I was already freezing.

When we came out of the guest room, I was embarrassed at having to wear those clothes, but my dad assured me it was fancy to wear a suit and that I shouldn’t be embarrassed.

“But why do I have to dress like this? It’s very uncomfortable,” I complained, stomping my foot.

“I’m sorry, Son, but you have to dress like this, it’s just for today,” my dad said.

“Thank you so much for watching him,” my dad said to Mrs. Weber, almost in tears.

“No problem, we’re running a bit late, but we’ll be right behind you,” Mr. Weber replied. “If you need anything, anything at all, please just let us know.”

My dad opened his umbrella and held me close as we walked toward a long black car that waited for us.

“Are we going in this car? It’s huge!” I said.

“Yes,” my dad replied as the driver opened the door for us.

I was the first to enter the black limousine. Both sets of my grandparents were already waiting inside. Everyone seemed really sad, with red and puffy eyes. My grandmother looked pale and sick.

I remember being concerned for her, so I got up and held her hand and said, “Grandma, don’t worry, everything is going to be okay.”

Then I knelt and looked through the foggy back window of the limo, trying to see Jonas and Carla. I could see just enough to spot Carla and Jonas getting into their parent’s car, also dressed in fancy, uptight clothes. It was a very cold and stormy New England morning.

We weren’t the only car on the street. In fact, behind our limo, there was a long line of cars. Leading the way was a box-shaped black limousine.

After a short ride, we arrived at Saint Patrick’s Parish. I’d been there a few times before with my mom, but never with my dad. She used to tell me it was her favorite church. Looking back, I recall wondering why we were going to my mother’s favorite church without her.

A small part of me hoped my mother would be waiting for us inside, even though something told me otherwise.

We drove past a huge white Jesus statue by the entrance; his outstretched arms welcomed us to the grounds.

The church was painted white like snow and was covered with by a light-grey roof. A long stairway led the way to a couple of tall wooden doors.

As we climbed the stairs, I looked up as I usually did when I went there with my mother and saw the magnificent steeple, which was connected to a huge bell tower. Every time I looked up at that bell tower, a dizzy spell came over me, causing me to miss a step. Thankfully, I was holding onto my father’s hand, otherwise I would have fallen.

As we walked into the church, another man, also dressed in a black suit, handed my dad a piece of paper. My immediate family followed right behind us.

Once inside, my father stopped, pulled me aside to an empty room near the entrance hall and said, “Son, I need you to be strong and brave…” He stopped for a second, as though he needed to catch his breath.

“Okay, Dad,” I said as my heart sped up.

“I’m sorry… to have to tell you this, Son, but there isn’t any other way… Mommy has passed away,” my dad said as our eyes started to fill up with tears.

At that precise moment, my world collapsed. Sadness took control my being. I experienced a mix of emotions so intense I thought was going to pass out.

“Son, we have to be strong for each other.”

“Did she go to heaven, Daddy?” I asked, crying. My dad looked at me, puzzled and at a loss for words. It felt like an eternity passed before he finally replied.

“Yes, Mommy is in heaven,” he said, giving me another very tight hug. We cried on each other’s shoulders for a while.

“Don’t worry, Daddy. Mommy is with God. He’ll take good care of her,” I said, trying to help.

Come to think of it, I truly believed God would look after my mother, but somewhere along the road, I forgot that innate belief. It didn’t help that my father was an atheist. I think eventually I acquired some of his skepticism and doubts.

“Come, it is time to say good-bye to Mommy,” my dad said, offering me his hand. I held it as tightly as I could. At that moment, that large hand was my only anchor to safety. I felt sad and guilty for every time I had told her no or not listened to her, but most of all I was sad because I was going to miss her love, her caring touch, her soft voice, her kisses and sweet smile.

I even missed her yelling at me for doing something wrong.

Once we started to walk to our seats, there was no way of avoiding the disappointment that took hold of my heart. The silence in the parish was heart-shattering and disturbing, and the loneliness was depressing.

As we walked, I felt every eye in the room focused on my father and me. The parish was filled to capacity. There were lots of friends and family all around, and yet I had never felt so lonely.

The most disturbing sight was seeing that strange and surreal black wooden box that was fitted with gold handles on top of the altar and knowing that my mother’s body was inside. Something told me I would have much to endure from that point forward.

We walked all the way to the front of the church and took our seats. Suddenly I felt my mother’s presence. I felt her love radiating toward me, giving me a warming and calming sensation even though it was cold inside the parish.

Right in front of us, a bit to the right, there was a large picture of my mother giving us a comforting and cozy smile.

“Is Mommy inside there?” I asked my dad.

“Yes, she is,” he replied and held me tighter.

“Am I ever going to see her again?” I asked, almost crying.

“Yes, you certainly will. Every night when you go to sleep, you’ll dream of her. You may not remember, but you’ll be with her every single night,” my dad replied.

We watched as the priest came to the front of the altar and started the morning service. I knew from my previous visits to the church that priests required complete silence and utmost concentration. Anything remotely fun and exciting, such as running wildly though the pews in the echoing church, was strictly forbidden—but on that day, I didn’t feel like doing any of those things. All I wanted was to do everything that my mother had taught me.

After a few minutes, my grandfather came to sit next to me while my father got up and took a piece of paper from his suit pocket. He walked to the front of the parish and started to talk.

“Dear friends and family, Clara’s accident has left us with a hole in our hearts, but she didn’t leave us. Her memories and joyful moments will live within every single one of us. I’m especially thankful to my loving wife for giving me the greatest joy of my life, which is our son, Mark Anthony. It is with a heavy heart that I come here in front of you today and ask that you do not let her memory fade. Always remember her, as she wanted to be remembered. As a good person, a wonderful wife, and above all, a great mother,” my father said tearfully.