Epilogue

vignette

Epilogue

The bright sun blinds me. I remove my hand from the rocker arm to shield the glare. Zachariah still holds my other hand in his warm grasp, as Canada geese slowly descend from the sky in their perfect V. All honking out to each other, they use their large feet as brakes and skid down in loud splashes. They celebrate their successful landings by sticking out their long necks at each other with a cacophony of calls. Once they form a circle, they quiet and busy themselves with dunking and grooming on the tranquil lake.

It’s odd to go from such dismal ends to such a serene setting—as though waking from a terrible nightmare in your warm, peaceful bed. Zachariah snaps his free hand and billowing organdy curtains appear, cascading from the porch overhang to cut the glare.

I drop my hand back to the rocker. “I wish I didn’t have to witness the deaths. Each one is so painful in its own way.”

“How we die greatly affects who we are.” His voice is so smooth. I wish I could fall asleep to it in my chair. “You must process everything.”

“I think the worst thing was to be treated in such a way and not being able to tell the truth at the end.”

“Many souls face such an end.”

“I was so close to being with Elmira.” A chill rolls over the dunes. I let go of his hand to hug my body.

“Do you see a theme throughout the last three lives?”

“That I never get to be with the one I love.”

“Well, the greater theme.”

“Kohana gave in to rage. John André gave up his life. Poe gave up on himself.”

I stare at him, willing him to accept my deduction, but with his eyebrows suspended, he puts his hands out, waiting for a better answer.

I put my finger up to my lips, searching within for a deeper analysis. “First, I reacted with rage from loss. Then, I accepted my death following loss of trust. Last, I gave up on myself after experiencing many losses.”

“Yes. Loss.” He settles back into his chair.

“Loss of love?”

His hand rolls out with each addition. “Loss of love, loss of life and, ultimately, loss of self.”

“I’m just thinking though, what is the point of life if the important part is what we learn and not how happy we are? What’s the point of living if there is always something meant to interfere with your happiness?”

“The time you spend in these lives is relatively short, and the hardships and struggles you experience with your group only makes you love them more. You have seen that already, haven’t you?”

I nod, wishing I were with them now. As a monarch butterfly flutters by, Zachariah puts his finger out. The beauty lands and he brings it over to me. Once it’s on my shoulder, the sadness disappears.

“What would you appreciate more: a beautiful, sunny, breezy day every day, or such a glorious day after a hurricane?”

Zachariah brings his hands up and, just like that, we’re on a long pier over the ocean. I turn to face him on the robin’s-egg-blue, wooden bench. “Is this all an illusion?”

“What?”

I spread my hands out, gesturing around me. “This place. These soundings. You. Me.”

He looks up. “What makes things real, then?”

“Please tell me.” I sigh. “Is all this truly happening?” I think of something horrible. “Could I be in a coma and I’m imagining this all?”

He cocks his head toward me. “It is a valid thought.”

“How do I know I died? Maybe I’m still alive.” Adrenaline rushes through my body. “Can you prove to me I’m dead?”

He retorts, with heavy sea-glass eyes. “Was there any way someone could prove you were ever alive?”

I think about it for a bit. “Pain. Joy. Hunger.”

He shifts his head back and forth. “But you can have vivid dreams where you feel pain, joy, and even hunger, yet those never happened, right?”

I grab my temples. “You’re messing with my head now.”

He removes my hands. “Look, there is no point in thinking about it. Either you are dead or you are alive. What does it matter? Why don’t we keep going and see where it takes us then?”

“Well, it’s better than sitting in my old body back in that stale bed.”

“There are so many kinds of loss and different ways people deal with it. So you responded to loss of love in your Native American life with rage and vengeance, then you responded to loss of life with acceptance, next you experienced many losses and reacted to it with self-medication and despair, ultimately losing yourself.”

“Sacrifice, Devotion, now Loss. What else can there be?” My mind spins in anticipation of what’s ahead.

“Or maybe you are just in a coma and will wake up soon.” He gives a heavy wink.

I realize I don’t want to go back to that shriveled body and immediately feel brave enough to go back and view my next life. I put my arm up for him to hold.

He nods slightly but says, “Any other side lessons you might have learned here?”

I squint up at the sun breaking through the clouds. “How come at the end of John André’s life suddenly God meant so much to me?”

“That life was unique, in that you knew you were going to die. When you face that your guide tries to prepare you by surrounding you in God’s light, to help you make that transition positively.”

“So you came and helped me?”

“Me and the angels. Whenever you feel that bright, warm light, it’s the angels. They are always there when someone crosses over.”

“How come I don’t feel that when I die unexpectedly?”

“Oh, you do, usually right before. This was only different because you felt it many days before.”

“That’s why everything felt so peaceful.”

He nods. “Anyone who is told they are going to die in a certain amount of time will feel them. Otherwise they would fall into such despair and negativity they might not cross into the light.”

I stroll to the end of the pier and look down at the raging surf beneath me. The barnacle-covered columns stoically hold the pier up, as the waves batter them repeatedly.

Grey, bottle-nosed dolphins emerge all around the pier. After some jumps, squeals and clicks, they disappear back under the surface where they came from.

In a flash, we’re back sitting on the bench.

“The dolphins reminded me of that dream.”

He gives me a half-wink. “I somehow thought they would.”

“You came to me again and I remembered it, without being on a vision quest?”

“I had to be sure you would go without Obadiah. I kept sending you that dream until you remembered it upon waking.”

“But what about all those other dreams? The dreams where I kept seeing the past but with the present identities?”

He puts his feet up on the top railing and lies back. “The more lives someone leads, the more they feel for certain emotional events. They can be so powerful and so close to their consciousness that simply seeing a person, holding an object, visiting a place, hearing a song or anything from a previous life can bring those memories back to them. This happens most in dreams, which is why so many people wake up speaking about such odd occurrences that make no sense to them. You, my dear, are beginning to retrieve them quite vividly in dreams now. Not everyone can do that.”

“They made me feel so close to people like Peggy, Smith and Honora. It’s probably why I trusted them so much.”

“And that is what you should have done. Even though Honora hurt you and Smith deceived you, it was what you needed to experience. Neither of them meant to damage you so.”

“No, I understand. It’s just part of the game right?”

“It’s not a game, Lazrina.”

“When am I going to get used to that name?”

He cracks a small smile, but I continue with my previous thought. “I wish I knew what happened to Peggy. I think I remember from history classes that Peggy and Arnold became outcasts together in England. I wonder what happened to Smith?”

“You can find all that out later.”

“So now I see why Smith was so bent on revenge on Arnold. It was all retribution for Hanska murdering Mika. Peggy and Smith got their revenge on him, or at least tried to.”

He nods.

“But usually you don’t seek revenge after you have learned from a life right?”

“Some hold on to so much anger that even though they learn here and understand, they go into a new life and their emotions take over again. It can go on like that for many lives.”

I whistle and say, with a bite of sarcasm, “I hope I don’t end up holding a grudge like that.” The thought of finally getting back at old Fish-face thrills me.

He takes my sarcasm in stride. “Do you want to see if you do?”

Zachariah puts his arm up for me to hold. The water shines like a field of diamonds, each sparkle dancing as though it’s alive.

“Let’s go then.” I put my arm on his and everything fades to dark.