I walk up to my house, but it is no longer mine. A for sale sign sits on the lawn; a smaller sign covers it. The word SOLD is displayed in big red letters. But I could have sworn we were pushing the move back until the new year. I go up to the front door to confront my wife, who has done very few things behind my back before, so upon entering uncharted territory my nerves make themselves known. I go to open the door and it is locked. I pat my pants to feel for my keys, but they aren't there. I reach inside and all I feel at the bottom of my pockets are grains of dirt.
I knock on the door frantically with a thought in the back of my mind convincing me that if I don't get inside the house now, I will never be able to get in again. The door opens and there stands my beautiful Emily. I smile at her. I've been gone for some time, and it is a relief to see her again. She has always been my lighthouse on a dark night when the waves are restless and the whipping winds make it difficult to steer. Just looking at her fills my body with an ethereal comfort that tells me that as long as I am with her, I am home. An initial moment of joy passes, and I notice that a ring of redness irritates her eyes. This familiar look tells me she has been crying. A lot. I reach my arms out to her, initiating a warm, comforting embrace, but she stares right through me, turns away, and walks back into the house. I follow behind her and close the door. She flinches when she hears it shut but she doesn't look back. Instead, she walks into the next room, leaving me dumbfounded in the foyer.
Boxes are stacked against the wall. I look into one and see that it is filled with silverware, cups, plates—the kitchen has been condensed into this piece of cardboard. Some boxes have writing on them: Emily's clothes, Lizzie's toys, etc. One box has the word donation written on it.
Something draws me to this particular box, and I take a look inside. Familiarity overwhelms me when I recognize my own belongings stacked on top of each other: shirts I always wear, my lucky watch, my razors, and my toothbrush. I lift my watch out of the box and stare at the ticking hands. It feels so foreign against my skin as if I haven't worn it nearly every day since Christmas of '05. How it even found its way into this box and off my wrist is beyond me. I turn it over and trace my finger over the engraving, I love you forever, John. I close my hand around the watch and follow the path Emily walked moments ago when she left me alone on the threshold.
The living room is barren and looks the opposite of its name. Emily sits on the last piece of furniture that has yet to be moved, my red recliner, and turns the pages of a worn-out photo album. She lingers on a page with photos from our wedding day, the happiest day of our lives until Lizzie's birth took its place. I try to call out, to ask her why she looks so heartbroken, yearning for better days when I am standing right in front of her. Anger and confusion lay on the tip of my tongue, but no sound comes out of my mouth. I have never experienced a moment more frustrating than this, never with Emily. There is so much I need to say, more than I have ever needed to say in my entire life, but the words fail me and lodge themselves into the back of my throat. Without a way to express myself verbally, I walk over to where she sits and place a hand on her shoulder. She makes no indication of feeling my hand or even my presence behind her. Why is she torturing me like this? I can't imagine what I could have done to cause her to throw me away, to shut me out with no explanation after all these beautiful years together. I would go to the ends of the earth for this woman. If we were in a scorching desert that hasn't seen rain for a hundred years, I would find a way to make a flower blossom out of the dry, barren ground just so she could gaze upon its beauty. But looking at her now, it seems that she may just reject that offer, that perhaps she is no longer accustomed to my efforts.
Soon after, Lizzie enters the room, unaware of the tension that dances in the air. I greet her with a smile and a wave. She looks at me. She doesn't return my gesture but instead stares at me with wide eyes. She almost looks afraid. My smile wavers and she rushes to her mother's side.
"Mommy, I'm scared." She whispers, grabbing onto Emily's arm.
"Why, honey, what's wrong?" Emily sniffles.
"Daddy keeps looking at me."
Emily sits up with a start.
"Lizzie, daddy isn't here." She seems to choke over her words as if being rid of me without a warning was anyone's decision but hers. "I'm sorry."
"Yes, he is," my daughter replies. "He's standing right behind you."
Emily's muscles stiffen and she freezes in place. In slow motion, she rises out of her chair and hesitates before she turns to look at me. When she finally meets my gaze, I don't feel the commitment of that look. I have never seen her so passive, so incredibly disinterested in my presence that I can't seem to shake the feeling that something more is wrong. At this moment, it is clear she truly doesn't see me. But Lizzie does. I don't know how this is possible, but there is no other way of putting it. She dismisses me and turns back to our daughter.
"Do you see him right now?" She asks.
"Yes."
"What does he look like?"
"He looks like regular daddy, only he has dirt all over his face."
A shriek escapes Emily before she slams her hand over her mouth to stifle it. Tears flow down her face and she rushes out of the room. Lizzie looks up at me and backs away. She runs after her mother and I am left to reflect on this impossible discovery.
She can't see me, I think to myself. Why can't Emily see me?
~
I retreat into the cavern of darkness I have gotten to know so well; where the isolation takes its toll on my heart and lungs, the tragedy of fate that ultimately takes my breath away.
I want to hug my daughter, to kiss my wife—there is nothing more I want in this world than to be with my family on the surface, but instead, I find myself sealed into my own grave. It is as though I am looking at them through a telescope and they are so out of reach that my heart aches with the most wretched restriction, my chest tightens with a familiar throb of pain I cannot seem to escape.
To be set free, to be rid of the tunnels I travel along aimlessly, of the walls I have found myself confined by for as long as my body allowed me to breathe in my final hours; to escape from here is the key to reaching the paradise I had been promised since my conception. I just need to find my way out.
On one of my endless ventures through passages I now know better than I ever knew the back of my hand, a sliver of light peeks out from around a corner. For as long as I have been here, no light has shown through any crevice that once linked this underground formation to the outside world. My first thought is, maybe something has eroded. Perhaps something in the earth has shifted to create cracks in the foundation I inadvertently laid. I round the corner to see the sliver of light transform into a white screen that temporarily blinds my unadjusted eyes. I squint and turn my face away. After a few moments, I am able to face the light, though I strain to keep my eyes open, to face the future I have been praying for that has finally made its way to the present.
I walk toward the light, each stride wider than the one before, and stand directly in front of its source. Tears form in my eyes and melt down my cheeks, cutting through the years of grime that has nestled into my pores. I prepare to step into the outside world I have been missing so dearly, to feast my eyes on Mother Nature's creation as if for the very first time. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I turn back toward the darkness of the cave and nod in farewell. I turn back, say a quick prayer, and walk out of my imprisonment.
~
A feeling you could never fathom unless you had it wrapped around you, holding you in
the warmest embrace; the caress of a mother, the security of a father. We will all get the chance to experience this feeling when the gates open and reward us for our devotion. I have dreamed my entire life of entering this kingdom, and to finally be here, to leave all of the pain behind, to be set free from the earthly prison I was tied to for so long—breaking free from the shackles of man to live alongside my creator for all of eternity.
I watch my family continue to grow without me. I had longed to escape the sorrow and to be alongside them as I once had been, but the gravity of these thoughts no longer weighs me down because I know that I will always be with them no matter how far apart we are. They are all a part of me, they will never forget me, and I will be waiting for them in this divine paradise.
I will be at peace for all my days.
