The Final World: Gates of Heaven





Hit me baby one more time…

That was the song that had to be playing at the time of my death, I think with decided annoyance. It is horribly embarrassing and absurdly ironic to die to such a song. I attempt to move my fingers but I can feel the roof of my car pinning my body and arms into the seat. I peer down into the back seat, my eyes landing on the graduation kit on the floorboards. I had just received my cap and gown this afternoon, now the red fabric looks decidedly morbid against the black carpeting. I manage to shift my head slightly to look out of the crushed windshield, though my vision is blurred. I can now see the large pick-up that not 5 minutes ago was forcibly rammed up the engine of my small Hyundai. I see the driver stumble out of the driver side door, and hear the unmistakable sound of beer cans clatter onto the pavement and want to scream at the man's stupidity. I choke on the fluids in my throat and feel saliva or maybe blood pooling out of my slack mouth and have the most ridiculous urge to laugh. I would never have imagined that this is the way I'd go out of this world, pinned inside a crappy hand me down car with drool spilling down my chin and Britney Spears braying like a donkey out of the speaker next to my ear.

I marvel at my lack of fear, one would think fear would come into play when facing your own mortality, but all I feel is a calming relief and perhaps some sadness. I would miss my parents, the way my Mom smelled and the way my Dad could make me laugh no matter how bad of a day I had, and I would miss my little brother, who because of this accident would miss his baseball championship next week. I would miss my best friend, Lauren, whose annoyingly cheerful disposition always managed to balance out my realistic melancholy. I thought of the reaction of my other friends and kids at my school and wanted to shake my head in exasperation, they would appear suitably depressed at the loss of one of their own. They would hold pray circles around the flag out front of the school and have a moment of silence sometime during class, but it would all be for show, each one relishing the drama of losing a "friend", fighting over who last talked to me or gave me a stick of gum. Mostly I felt saddened for those who had really loved me and would have to watch the spectacle. At 18, I had planned on having quite a bit more time left, but for the life of me, I couldn't think of anything else I really wanted to do, so perhaps this really was meant to be.

I am a first generation American with two Irish parents who immigrated here in 1990. As expected of someone with such a strong Irish background, I was raised Irish Catholic, which is the same thing as Roman Catholic, only the Irish like to add their own touch to the title. I never questioned the need for church once a week, it was simply a fact of life that one could not escape, but I never really considered my own personal thoughts on spirituality before. Do I believe in God? I'm not really sure. I believe in a higher power, a creator, but does that mean the same thing as the Christian God? I wasn't sure of that either. I have always felt more connected to my faith when I am outside, under the sun or the moon, counting the stars or laying in the grass. Churches are man made, and they had always felt restrictive to me. I try to shake my head of the muddled thoughts but my body has almost completely weakened now. I watch as the man that hit me stumbles away from his truck in the other direction, and as the last of my strength leaves my body I can hear "Time In A Bottle" playing softly in my ear.



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Death is a lot like birth, well…if I could remember what birth feels like that is. The pressure and heat is unbearable, like I am being stuffed alive into a too small furnace. The pain is so intense that I am incapable of feeling anything else. A scream rips from my mouth as soon as I have the necessary air in my lungs, and just like that it all stops and I am pressed against something cool. I groan and open my eyes; quickly shutting them again as the brightness of my surroundings pierce my unstable vision. For a moment I am completely incapacitated, I can't seem to remember anything or where I am, all I can remember is the pain that has just left my body.

"Open your eyes, they will adjust to light once again", offered a sudden voice.

My eyes pop open in surprise and I lurch back at the sudden appearance of the little boy who is crouching down next me, a creepy smile on his face. I scowled at him and started pushing myself up slowly. "Not the time kid, go wherever you're supposed to be." I said mostly out of habit, I had never been a big fan of children, I tolerated my little brother, poor kid, but I didn't have to tolerate non-related children.

"I am where I am supposed to be." The boy said with a spooky calm that made her think of the Dalai Lama.

"Yeah?" I asked in absentmindedness, I wasn't really interested in his conversation while I looked around, my eyes finally adjusting. "What the hell?" I ask myself softly as I crouch back down, my hands pressing into the floor. It looks like crystal clear water but is as hard and as cool as glass, it glistens brightly like millions of diamonds that are being set off by the void of white that surrounds me. I can feel my hands shaking at my sides as I realize that it is just me, the kid, that creepy glass water, and the white void. I glance at the boy out of the corner of my eyes, but he is still smiling at me calmly as if waiting. "Where am I?" I ask, afraid that I already know the answer.

His pleasant face seemed to fill with sympathy at the question. "You already know the answer to that question Alastrina Fitzgerald. You are home in Heaven, at least that is what it is called on Middle Earth." He straightens his back with pride and smiles again. "I am your personal Greeter."

"What, like Wal-Mart?" She asks, but shook her head in impatience at his puzzled look. "No offense kid, but why are you my Greeter? I thought my dead family members were supposed to meet me at the pearly gates or some saint ready to pass judgment on my life's decisions? Isn't that what happens in the movies?" I ask, not even sure myself if I am serious or joking.

"Only God may pass judgment on you Alastrina Fitzgerald, and God already has or you wouldn't be here. Your deceased family members await you in Heaven when you are ready to see them; I am here with you now to ease your transition into this new world and answer any questions you may have." He explains with the same calm face that he has been wearing since I woke up.

"Questions?" I snort in distorted humor and glance around. "What could I possibly want to know?" I glance over at him. "Why are you my Greeter?" I ask curiously, unable to hide my annoyance completely. Perhaps my dislike of children is unfair, but their innocence makes me uncomfortable. I never know what to say to them or what not too. I look over him quickly. He is beautiful with big golden brown eyes and light golden brown hair that falls over his forehead in boyish and carefree style. His clothing fit in with the early 1900s with dark blue slacks, a pale blue button down, and navy blue suspenders. He looks to be about 12 but perhaps a little small and thin for his age. He looks rather charming; I decide grudgingly and turn to look around the white void.

He looks crestfallen at the question and some of the light dims from his eyes. "You do not like my physical shell Alastrina Fitzgerald?" He asks, looking much more like a child with visible vulnerability.

I want kick myself for the question and rush to make him feel better, afraid he would cry or something. "No really, you're fine, I was just curious about the choice and if it meant anything significant." I say a bit awkwardly before patting my hand on his shoulder. "You'll be fine, and call me Trina. Alastrina Fitzgerald is a mouthful." I walk over the glittering surface and do a slow turn to look all around me. "So this is it?" I ask, unimpressed.

"No." He smiles and suddenly it feels like time has stopped and the oxygen has been sucked from my body, I am held frozen in place while the world rushes around me. Then, like with the pain earlier, it has stopped and I am collapsing to the ground. "This is it." I hear the boy finish and I look up at him in time to see a smug smile on his face. I growl at him slightly, unable to form words yet and turn to get my first real look at Heaven.

The city is almost beyond description; its beauty is so astounding that I am struck mute as I force myself to my feet. The large pearl colored gates in front of me glitter under the white light that shines above us. The pathway leading through the gate is the same glass floor as Limbo, only the aqua colored water beneath shines even brighter when surrounded with the color of this world. The path twists and curves over the grassy hills beyond, while people walk along the path and sit in the grass of what looks like a well-manicured park. I press my hand against the gate but jerk back when I feel the heat radiating off of it, afraid of being burned, though I realize it isn't the same kind of heat as fire. I hesitate but slowly touch the gate again, sighing softly as the warmth fills me. I slide my other hand up to touch the gate as well and bow my head, letting the tempting peace fill me. "What is this?" I ask, not realizing I am asking my thought out loud.

"It is God." The boy's voice enters my thoughts gently and I slide my hands off the gate, staggering back until I feel his hand pressing into my back to hold me up. "God's love is no small thing, it can be overwhelming and consuming here, the longer you stay the easier it will be to live in close proximity with." He explains while I take the time to catch my breath and stable myself.

My attention closes in on the people inhabiting the park and I realize that although it looks vaguely familiar to something one would see on Earth, there are some key differences. I notice the clothing first; many people are wearing clothes from the same era that I am from but in addition to them there are people wearing clothes that go as far back as I can imagine, all from different countries and races. I walk passed a woman in an 1880 walking dress, a Japanese soldier from WWII, a woman with waist length hair and an armband from the 60s, a union soldier from the civil war and so many others that is hard to take it all in. I crouch down again in the middle of the pathway, my eyes shifting to watch everyone while I try to wrap my head around what I was seeing. So many different people from so many different times, but it looked right, like this was exactly how it was supposed to look. They were all beautiful, different colors, different ages but there was no wariness, anger or fatigue in their eyes, no stiffness in their bones. The wrinkles have been softened on the old, their bodies healed of pain and the effects of age without making them look 20 again. Their hair is still as white as it was when they passed, however it is more like if someone could age without ever experiencing stress or the physical trauma of age. They seem to be filled and bursting with an inner light that makes them all beautiful and innocent. I look back at the boy and realize that he looks like them as well, it was what made me so uncomfortable when I first saw him, I am not used to such visible purity and vulnerability. On Earth it is unwise to show such softness to the world.

"Do I look like that?" I ask, looking down at my arm as if to look for changes. I have always thought I am rather plain looking with dark brown hair that can't decide if it wants to be curly or straight, gray eyes that slant upwards at the corners and are a little large and far spaced for my head and a mouth that is too wide, my serious disposition has left a permanent scowl between my brows and my tall body leans more towards muscle rather than curve, which although works for my tomboy personality, it has never exactly made me a beauty queen.

The boy hesitates before shaking his head no. "You do not look like the others, but perhaps you have not accepted it yet, you have not accepted the light." He says more confidently as if deciding that was it. He walks passed me down the pathway but pauses and looks back at me. "I am Oliver." He says by way of introduction and looks up as a woman walks forward from one of the hills.

I look at the woman blankly taking in her wide-legged white slacks, green cashmere wrap and shoulder length silver white hair. She is a rather stunning representation of an elderly person in Heaven, but as I met the woman's wide spaced gray eyes that match perfectly to my own, I gasp with the first show of real pleasure. "Mamo…" I whisper happily and take several quick steps to my grandmother to hug her tightly.

"Aye Garinion it's me…" She says with a smile, and then grunts as I hug her tightly. "Easy Lassie, I'll not be dying again if it's all the same to you…" She says with a full laugh that has always made me smile. "Its sorry I am that you are here Alastrina, such an early time for you to come home, but God made his choice with you and we'll make the best of it now." She chucks me under my chin and looks down at Oliver. "What do ye say we show my Garinion what living right and proper has earned her eh?" She asks him with a smile and another full laugh before locking her arm with mine and leading me up the park pathway towards Downtown Heaven.