The last letter to eternity

To the one who I have always loved dearest,

This will be the last time I write to you. I have been asked to fulfill a certain duty — a duty of the utmost importance — and can no longer occupy myself with the penning of these trivial letters. Do not think I am abandoning you, darling — hardly. I will remain with you always, if only in spirit. Think of me often, and I will think of you. Hopefully we will be together again soon.

But enough sentimentality — I have a story to tell you. I suspect it means something, but what? I do not know. Maybe you can tell me. The story begins on a certain day, not long ago, when the sun went away. I typically enjoy gray days, but this day I did not enjoy, for the sun had gone away for good reason — the reason being that God himself had left the world. 

I met my friend at about 5 in the afternoon, and we began to walk — nowhere in particular, talking about nothing in particular. We soon came to a bench, perched on a small hill near a pond. We sat down, looking out at the pond, watching the birds. I told my friend that I felt cheated by the very nature of life, that I wished to never have been born, but my friend was high as a kite, and responded in a very unhelpful way. “Look at that bird,” my friend said. “Isn’t it funny how it moves … it’s flying in a geometric pattern … it looks like it’s bouncing off the air.” My friend, as you can tell, is an idiot sometimes, but he is my friend.

We continued sitting for a while, mostly in silence, and I felt angry because I couldn’t understand why God had abandoned the world, but still expected me to believe in him. I wanted to cry, but I didn’t. What I did instead was wallow in despair because there was nothing else to be done. I decided that, after I departed from my friend, I would move to some far away place, lead a simple life, then die. And I would be happy. 

Some time later, we again began to walk. We walked for a while, and the sky was still very gray. We came to a house, which was surrounded by a fence; behind the fence was a dog, which ran up towards us, asking to be pet. I didn’t pet the dog, but my friend did, and the dog was happy. It began rolling around on the ground and rubbing itself up against the fence; in its eyes, which were big and sad, I could see that all the poor creature wanted was to be loved. Whether or not God had abandoned the world meant nothing to this dog; it lived for one thing only, and that was love. Looking back, darling, I wish I had reached down and given the poor thing a pat or two on the head, but my heart is cold — as you know — so I stood there quietly, then wept a single tear. 

On the far side of the house, there sat a graveyard. We examined the headstones — some of them had funny names, which made me laugh, even though I wasn’t in the mood to laugh. I notice that, in a graveyard, I always think of myself as having some special advantage over the dead. I guess I do — I’m alive and they aren’t. Nobody ever thinks they are going to end up in a graveyard.

At this point, it was getting late. My friend wanted to return home, but we walked on anyway. We soon came to a clearing in the wood, which had at its center a shrine. The shrine was of Jesus on the cross, his head tilted slightly, an expression of sorrow etched across the crucified Messiah’s face. I was happy to see Jesus, and my friend was too, even though he doesn’t believe in God. I’m not sure if I do either. 

I then remembered that it was Good Friday — how had I possibly forgotten? No wonder the sun had hidden itself; no wonder God had abandoned the world. Jesus was up on the cross — love itself had been crucified. I knelt down at the foot of the shrine and began to pray. As I shut my eyes, I perceived only the soft chirping of birds, and I felt peace — at least more than I had. Then I heard a voice — it didn’t speak audibly, but I heard it clearly. It told me that it created all of this, that all of this was good, and that I needn’t worry. 

I began to weep. My friend, who had been standing next to me, gave me a pat on the shoulder. Then, he stood up and left. As he did, I came unbounded from my body — I now saw the whole scene from above. I saw myself, kneeling before the crucified Messiah, weeping; I saw the trees, just now coming into bloom; I heard the birds, and the soft breeze, and I knew that this was it, that this was my final destination, that I would be here forever, in this wood, by this shrine, kneeling at the crucified Messiah’s feet. 

Then I opened my eyes, saw that Jesus still donned that sorrowful expression, stood up, wiped my eyes and continued on my way, because there was still work to be done.

With love,

T.W.