Just before his eyes closed, Colm saw something else too. He saw what it was that his mother had spoken of for so long. At the moment of Colm Francis Magee’s final mysterious death, he saw arms reaching for him, enveloping him in an unconditional loving embrace. He felt the warmth of her touch, and he knew it would be all the love he ever needed. And he too smiled as he thought of it: she had been there the whole time.
Heaven was right there in front of him.
Yet, suddenly, before him appeared his Irish nana, Maureen Magee, so young and beautiful, and she was holding the hand of his enormous grandfather, Michael. He was as huge and strong as his mother always promised he would be. And he saw two people who he did not know, who he had only heard his mother speak of. Niranjana, with sparkling green eyes like his own mother’s and wearing her white sari, held her son, Dhruv’s, hand. Colm wanted so badly to go to them. But something stopped him. He had someone else to meet, someone who he had never met either, but who he would recognize without anyone having to say a word. Colm saw him instantly—he had his guitar strapped across his back and he had short, auburn-colored hair, and his face, his face was unmistakable.
Pierce looked just like him—and Colm knew—it had been his own face, the face he stared at in the mirror his entire life.
“Dad!” Colm ran screaming his name. His legs worked better than he imagined they could. They were strong, stronger than they had ever been, and with them he launched himself into his father’s open arms.
“Oh, son. My son. I am so sorry. Please forgive me. I wanted to go back to tell you, to tell your mom how sorry I was. I made such a horrible mistake. So many. Please forgive me.”
“I do. Daddy, I forgive you. You’re here. You’re really here,” Colm said, wrapping his small arms around his father’s neck and squeezing him as tightly as he could.
“I would have come sooner, but I had other plans . . .”
“It’s OK. I understand. You would’ve if you could.”
“You have to go now, Colm.”
Colm looked at Pierce, Maureen, Michael, Niranjana, and Dhruv, who were all suddenly standing on what looked like water to him. They were all slowly fading, dissolving before him.
“It’s not time for you.”
“But I don’t want to go. I want to stay,” Colm cried.
“We’ll all be here waiting,” Pierce said, kissing the boy on the cheek. You can tell your mama she’s always on my mind and I see her clearly—I always have—and she’s beautiful. Can you remember that? And don’t ever forget that I’ll be right there beside you when you wake up, when you’re at school, when you’re playing. You can count on it. I’ll be there like I’ve always been,” Pierce said just before he disappeared completely before Colm’s eyes.
“Daddy, no! I don’t want you to go!”
As each one disappeared below the water’s surface, Colm shouted for them to come back.
“Please, come back! Come back! Please don’t leave me again, Daddy! I love you!” Colm’s sobs echoed around him, and he covered his ears and shook his head. As tears rolled down his cheeks, he shouted, “Daddy, why? Why can’t you just stay? Just love me?”
Though he could no longer see him, Colm heard his father say, “Whatever pain you feel, like the pain you are beginning to feel now as you leave me, you must understand it will all disappear someday, and no matter what—you will endure. Because you will never be alone. You have so many people who love you. You’ll see. You’ll see.” Colm nodded and tried to smile, the same angelic smile he had flashed the night he was born, the night his mother believed the angels stood beside him in their lonely hospital room.
Colm did not understand what was happening. He looked around everywhere for his father. “Don’t leave me here alone!” He could not tell if it was all real or if it was a terribly frightening dream, one in which he could not believe or wake up from. Everything around him was turning black. He didn’t know what to believe. What to think. Or whether thinking and believing were two altogether different notions. He heard voices shouting at him from every direction: Dr. Basu’s, “It’s like a dream, a trick of the brain. You’re really not dead.” He heard his uncle’s voice. “It’s a chemical reaction.” He heard his mother’s voice. “You have to believe. To hope. To know that there is always a chance, a way to fix you.” Then he heard her say, “You’re my miracle, Colm.” Her voice seemed the most clear. The finest tuned. He heard her singing now and recognized the familiar song. He went toward the sound, and he cried out for her, “Mama! Mama? Are you there? I can’t see you. Mama! Mama, I need you!”
Then Colm thought he could see them, his family—Dr. Basu, Sean, and his mother—all wrapped tightly around a small boy. And though they could not hear him or see him, Colm saw them and he knew . . .
He walked toward the trio and reached out and touched his mother’s shoulder. At that moment Cathleen’s heart filled, and the deep, hollow hole that had grown inside her sealed itself. She grabbed the boy she held in her arms and held him to her breast, while rocking and singing, mo chuisle, mo chuisle.
Colm let her love him, falling further into her body, loving her as he had never loved her before. She had found heaven before him, and she made it easier for him to find. All he had to do was make the trip. And it was all so beautiful. It was all proof. All the proof he ever needed.
Proof of heaven.
Then, like a sudden spark that arrives from a singular, unknown source, Colm opened his eyes and he saw.
He saw it all so clearly.