The Other Side of Heaven (2 page)

Why me? Who was I to be given
such a responsibility? I’d say honor but, I wasn’t certain it was. I was
nothing special. I lived my life to be one of the many. I worked in accounting
and the only time someone knew I existed was if their check was wrong and that
rarely happened.

I kept my head down, worked hard.
I ate lunch alone, spoke to few people. Was pleasant and cordial, but not
friendly. I didn’t have friends. Not since high school. People close tend to
cause hurt. I was content living a bland life. I was average all the way
around. From my looks to my personality. My life was every day. I was that
person who barely went to parties. I don’t think anyone noticed that I skipped
the company picnic. Honestly, I was fine with that.

I did nothing bad, nor did I do
anything grand. The closest thing I had to living on the edge was smoking pot
on Friday, eating pizza and binge watching a television series on a pay video
service.

That was my life.

Now I was the center of
attention. The ‘stick to the background woman’ was thrust into the spotlight,
and given a tremendous responsibility from a source I couldn’t refuse.

I task I couldn’t turn down.

Not only did I have to search out
grieving individuals, I had to choose five that were most deserving of the
opportunity for one more moment with someone they lost. How was that possible?
How would I make that choice? How would I determine that one person’s grief was
more than another’s? It was something bigger than I could imagine, and a task I
wasn’t sure I wanted to be a part of.

Bill was wrong, lunch arrived and
still not a single doctor spoke to me. I contemplated just leaving, until Artie
entered not only my room, but my life.

Unlike everyone else, she spoke
as soon as she walked in. Exclaiming an exasperated, “Whew. I go away and look
at this mess.” She walked to the window and opened the blinds. “There, let the
sun in.” With a turn of her body she faced me with a warm smile.

Her age was hard to tell, a
thicker built African American woman with her hair pulled back, wearing blue
scrub pants, a white jacket and a smiley face scrub shirt.

“You okay, Sweet Pea? You look a
little stunned.” She walked to my Intravenous infusion checking it. “Gonna get
your vitals.”

“You’re talking to me.”

“Of course, I’m talking to you. I
don’t recall in all my years entering a patient’s room and not talking.”

“But no one else is talking to
me.”

She paused in taking my blood
pressure. “Is there a gag order on this room?”

“I think so.”

“See, they don’t tell me
anything. I go away to New York for mission work.”

“Mission work in New York.”

“You know how many homeless there
are in New York?” She shook her head and lifted my chart. “No, last time there
was a gag order the president was …” She paused, looked at me and back to the
chart. “No wonder there’s a gag order.”

“You broke it.”

“Not the first time. Now I see
why you are causing the ruckus out there.”

“You didn’t know when you came
in?” I asked.

“No, I didn’t. I do now.” She
read the chart. “You were hit by a metro?”

“My car.”

“No injuries at all.”

“Well.” I pointed to the bandage.

“My Lord, you were dead for
eighteen hours, so dead they sent you to the morgue?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Artie whistled. “Sweetheart, dead
for eighteen hours … the Good Lord certainly must have a plan for you.”

“Unfortunately, he does.”

On those words, Artie closed the
chart.

“And of course, all medical
expenses will be paid for,” one lawyer said. “The hospital will also take care
of any follow ups you may have in addition to the lump sum.”

The other lawyer in my room
stated, “And port authority is also interested in offering you a settlement
which includes life time passes for our transit system.”

I didn’t know what to do. Who
would have known that my first visitors would be lawyers? They worked fast.

“Take the settlement,” Bill
advised, seen only by me standing at the foot of my bed. “Sign them, we don’t
have time to wait on courts and you need the money to search.”

I really wasn’t a monetary
person, so I signed the papers.

I suppose the guard got tired of
fielding visitors. I had no family, so when a Cousin Sue or Aunt Jean showed
up, he knew to send them away. The next two days were insane. As Bill said,
People tried diligently to talk to me, reporters called, talk shows, the world
was at my disposal to get the word out, but somehow, it seemed off.

Being an instant celebrity wasn’t
my thing. I didn’t want to be interviewed, on television or radio. Yes, I had a
message, a mission, but I was also certain that it would get out and I would
somehow find those I needed to speak to. After all, Heaven had a hand in it,
surely they had candidates in mind.

My release was set. I was dressed
and ready to go home and waiting on the hospital to figure out how they were
going to get me out without being attacked by the media.

Bill was there. He was by my side
a lot, I was grateful.

“Now I know you feel
overwhelmed,” Bill said. “Alone. But you aren’t. You’ll have those who will
help you with your journey. And even as you make this decision, it is okay to
ask for help.”

I laughed.

“What? What is so funny?”

“I don’t have anyone Bill.”

“There’s some….”

Before he could finish, Artie
walked in the room. She wore a flowered dress and a wide brim hat and lipstick.
Artie was dolled up.

“Good afternoon, Sunshine, how’s
it going?” she asked.

“Better now that you’re here. I
didn’t expect to see you.”

“I heard they were releasing you.
I wanted to stop in.”

“You look very pretty. You didn’t
need to dress up for me.”

Artie tossed out her hand with a
smile. “It’s Sunday. I always wear my Sunday best. Just got out of services.”

Bill waved a finger. “That is
really nice of her. She goes every week.”

“I’m not surprised.”

Artie shifted her eyes from me
and looked around the room. “Your Heaven friend again?”

“Yeah.”

“He figure out how to get you out
of here unseen?”

“Not yet.”

“Good. I have an idea” Artie
said.

Because the media and those
seeking to ‘touch’ me weren’t permitted on my floor, slipping out the back
stairwell with Artie was easy. We made it to the garage and because I laid down
in the backseat, Artie programmed my address into her GPS and was able to drive
from the hospital without a second glance.

I never realized how much
hospitals smelled one way until I got into Artie’s small car. It smelled like
sweet flowers, it was Artie. I swore her goodness exuded a scent.

“Thank you so much for this,” I
said, buckling my seat beat. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Yes,” Artie looked in the
rearview mirror. “Yes, I did. Some of us are called in big ways.” She nodded
her head at me. “Some of us get subtle messages.”

“It’s insane.”

“Yes, it is. Just the reaction to
this all. It’s unheard of.”

“I was reading comments on the
news story. People are cruel.”

“You have to deal with that.
Broaden them shoulders.”

“I have no idea how to even begin
this quest.”

“Maybe your heavenly friend can
…” Artie slowed the car as we turned the bend to my street. “Oh, Lord.”

The crowd in front of my four
unit apartment building wasn’t as big as the hospital, but they blocked the
entrance.

“Is there a back way in?” Artie
asked.

“Yeah, but we can’t get there
without going through them.” I said. “I’ll be fine.”

“Who is upstairs waiting on you?”

I chuckled. “No one.”

“No boyfriend, husband, friend,
family?”

“No.”

“Well, you just got out of the
hospital. Who was going to care for you?”

“No one. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure you will. Eventually.”
Artie placed the car in reverse and did a quick street turn around. “For now, I
hope you like chicken.”

Artie’s home was wonderfully
chaotic. So many people packed in for the traditional Sunday meal. Her husband
was a quiet man with a pleasant smile, he interacted with his grandchildren
from his favorite chair.

I didn’t know Artie well, but I
wanted to. Her family was close and welcomed me without asking anything about
who I was. Her sister was there with her children. Artie’s three children and
grandchildren. It was crowded and despite my bad hospital hair, sore body, I
was comfortable.

The food was awesome, chicken and
candied yams, I hadn’t had a home cooked meal like that since my mother was
alive. The cake Artie called a ‘Seven up cake’ didn’t seem enough, I think I
could have devoured that myself.

I listened to their conversation.
It ranged from sports, to politics, ruffled feathered arguments erupted but
calmed back down.

Never once did I feel as if I
overstayed my welcome. Despite the fact that I was there until nightfall.

Artie was fixing me a care
package of leftovers when her nephew, Brad returned. He was a young man of
about nineteen. He left right after dinner, but came back. He sat in the living
room with Artie’s husband watching television.

“Brad is going to take you back
to your apartment,” Artie said. “Get you in passed those reporters and stay
with you. You shouldn’t be alone.”

“That’s not necessary,” I said.

“Yes, it is.” Artie joined me at
the kitchen table. “I’m sorry that you’re alone, even more sorry that you’re
alone right now.”

I placed my hand over hers.
“Thank you for everything. Thank you so much for believing me.”

“It’s a hard story not to.”

“Have you given any thought as to
how I will choose? I mean, if it were you, how would you choose.”

She let out a ‘whew’ and sat
back. “That is hard. I think I’d have to follow my gut. Listen to their
stories, feel their sorrow, find out the why, because the why is important.”

“What would your why be?” I
asked. “I mean if you had the chance. Who would you pick, and why.”

“I think everyone carries around
the what ifs. They wonder what they’d say. If I had that chance, I’d want to
see my mother. She was my best friend. We were so close, she taught me strength
and that I can do anything. I’d think my why would be to just show her I’m
alright, maybe thank her.”

I nodded slowly.

“But do not confuse my answer
with me saying it is something I want or need.” Artie shook her head. “I feel
that I resolved it with my mother, even though she died young. And I think she
resolved it with me. I believe, and this is just my opinion, that we feel
pulled, we feel the unresolved, the missing because maybe those on the other
side need to resolve as well.”

Her words made me gasp and my
hand shot to my mouth with the instant thoughts of my crossing over, visions
that I still saw in my dreams.

“What?” she asked.

“When I died, when I went to
wherever it was, heaven or pre-heaven, I was bombarded. I remember wondering
where was my family? You know? Because there were so many people wanting to
talk to me, telling me their loved ones names, things about family. Pick them.
I didn’t get it until Bill filled me in.”

“So they all knew your mission and
were rushing to you to influence you.”

“Yes.”

“Well, there you have it.”

“Have what?”

“Do you remember any faces?
Names?”

“I remember a few, yes.”

“There’s your start,” Artie
stated matter of fact. “Match them up. If their loved one found an urgent need
to speak to you, then I am willing bet the feeling is mutual for the ones they
left behind.”

Artie made a valid point, but the
question still remained as to how.

Brad proved that wisdom ran in
the family and age had nothing to do with it. He was content on staying with
me. A very polite young man studying for his own nursing degree. We pulled onto
my street, and although not as many, the reporters and crowd were still there.

“Oh, no.”

He stopped the car before getting
closer. “Listen. I have been thinking about this. So please hear me out.”

“Okay.”

“You need them to go away. They
won’t. You mentioned to my Aunt that somehow God will deliver the people to
you. Well, maybe this is God’s way.”

“What do you mean?”

“You need to find the people.
There are a lot of people out there deserving of this opportunity. You need to
make that choice, but how are you going to find them, how are they going to
come forward and share their story if they don’t know you’re looking for them.”

“What do you think I should do?”

“Get the word out.” Brad pointed
to the reporters.

I acknowledged my understanding
and agreement and Brad pulled into the lot of my building. Suffice to say, I
wasn’t ready, but I knew he was right. In order for me to start, I really did
have to deliver a calling card.

People are born with good souls.
Sure, once in a while, there is a bad apple, but for the most part, there is no
such thing as a bad soul. Souls come into the human body free of any prior
knowledge of good or bad, knowing only pureness and happiness. Circumstances
and influences are what makes a person bad.

The old saying there are no bad
people, only bad choices, is almost entirely correct.

I didn’t envy Natalie Baynes. Not
one bit. Of course, I could have made the decision; after all opening up the
other side of heaven for the opportunity was my brain child. Blind faith was at
its highest, loss of faith and lack of reason to believe at a low. Not to
mention the number of people who didn’t believe. It was time for the experiment
to happen.

Would the five chosen and Natalie
be enough to make a difference in the world? Probably not. But they would be
enough to make a difference in

Many lives.

Picking Natalie wasn’t a cop out,
as I have been told. While the decision on who would get to go wasn’t easy, I
didn’t toss the responsibility elsewhere to take it from myself.

I could make the decision.

What was needed was someone from
the outside. Someone who would be so moved by a person’s story that they would
feel compelled to grace them with a gift.

Only a human on earth could judge
what would move other people.

Sort of like giving five poverty
ridden people ten grand each to change their lives. Could an out of touch
millionaire make that decision? Probably nowhere near as fairly as someone in
poverty.

Not that Natalie had a need to
see someone from the other side. Her losses were resolved. There was no big
hidden agenda for picking Natalie. She didn’t have a sob story or anything out
of the ordinary. In fact, I didn’t know it was going to be her.

She just happened to be at the
right place at the right time, or rather wrong place depending on the person
you asked.

The day was chosen, the location,
the time. Metro crossing, Illinois, June 15, in the evening at five forty-three
and twenty-two seconds. Whatever car or person crossing those tracks at that
particular second was the one.

The chosen.

They could have been anyone. It
happened to be Natalie.

A Heavenly Lottery of sorts.

It wasn’t as simple as I
believed. She’d die, wake up a long time later, and the world would be
engrossed.

Natalie was scared and unlike I
thought, she would need help.

Artie and her nephew were and
would be transient help. Called upon when needed, there even when not. But
Natalie needed more. Some needed a co-partner in it all, and I had a few
prospects in mind.

Her journey and process would not
be easy and she would learn that.

That evening after dinner with
Artie, she stood in front of her apartment building, Brad was at her side as
she spoke to the reporters.

“My name is Natalie Baynes. I
died. I came back. Yes, I saw heaven. Yes, it exists. I have been asked to find
five people. Five people who will get the chance to have one more day with a
loved one they lost. To resolve, to visit, whatever.”

“How will you chose?” asked a
reporter.

“I don’t know. Whatever story
pulls at me. I don’t know.”

Brad announced, ‘No more
questions’, and escorted her inside.

Little did she or Brad realize
that one brief statement would cascade into a worldwide viral event. The next
morning she woke to find over two thousand friend requests on her social media
and someone on another social account, posted her email.

It was flooded.

Her work was underway. It
wouldn’t get easier. There were a lot of stories to read, to hear, then she’d
visit them. Artie and Brad would be great help in weeding out the prospects.

For the final decision, she
needed some guidance.

As I said, I didn’t envy her.
However, I believed in her. I also truly believed it wasn’t going to be words
on paper that told Natalie who she should pick. It would be a gut instinct.
When she met the ones, she would know. She would just know.