Walter's Sad Ending, Or Was It?

Walter's Sad Ending, Or Was It?

How long Walter lay awake that night he couldn’t guess. Another night of pure torture with a kaleidoscope of threatening images racing nonstop through his mind. The most terrifying was his divorced wife Polly scratching his face with surprising strength and then that deafening cloud burst of her rantings in his ears. 

Walter winced, his head slowly clearing from the previous evening's liquor. He searched for the details of those past hours without success. Who had he had been with? What had he done in his usual unsteady manner among the equally unsteady crowd?    

With a weak smile Walter remembered the good old days when he was the company’s top salesman, that just 7 years and many jobs ago. He was then proud and even a bit boastful the night the president of the firm asked him to stand at the annual meeting to loud applause and then was presented a hefty check for the profits he’d made for the company.  

Shortly thereafter Walter started paying the price for the endless dinners and late-nights with customers. These were expected and no Saturdays or Sundays were excluded from this work routine. Having a family and enjoying time with Polly became a fairytale that sailed away with the wind.   

Well before the present night Walter's paranoia draped heavily over him. As he pumped gas at Bumpy’s station he would constantly scan for bill collectors after his car payment, rent, to cover the bad check he had given to the local grocery store. More than once a policeman knocked at his door and only because he knew all on the force, including the chief, had he been spared a night in jail.   

Walter’s paranoia morphed into schizophrenia just before dawn that morning. As slices of light snuck through the window in between moving tree branches onto the bed Walter did not see his fingers resting on the blanket but 10 little faces. Their mouths popped open, they had hideous expressions, then they spewed accusing, hurtful taunts: “Walter you are more worthless than dessert dust,” “Walter, you’ve turned into a sickening leech,” “Walter, Polly should have left more scars on your face than she did,” and they went on and on. Walther screamed, slapped his face over and over trying to get rid of the little faces and their rantings. With hot sweat dripping from every pour Walter raced to the bathroom and cool water.    

Until that night Walter’s only solace was at the Wits End bar after work where friends bought him shots and beers to raise this downcast soul for at least an hour or two.  

With eyes wide now, Walter slowly shifted his head back and forth and then decided there was no way out of this miserable existence except to end it all so Walter, oh so rationally, considered his method’s end. It did not take him long to decide on what would be a short process that would do the job - cheaply - as his wallet was empty.    

But then a most curious thing happened. A peaceful stream of warmth found itself meandering into Walter’s tortured mind. It was as if he lay on the bank of a pond with its comforting ripples of water splashing over him. The peace he felt for the first time in literally years was so welcomed but unexplainable. He pondered whether to just lie numb in bed until this placid feeling passed which he hoped it would not. But then he wondered was there a message to figure out buried in the music of the tiny waves.  

Walter then remembered Reverend Morris, in that soft voice of his, speaking to the congregation about one’s soul way back when he was 12. The good reverend said all must contemplate and pay attention to the winds coming from their souls and the messages these winds carry to each. Reverend Morris then told the assembled that their souls were of course: 

The spiritual part of the human being regarded as immortal believing that death just one step in a soul’s journey through the universe. 

The Reverend then added in an unusually strong voice, which now thundered in Walter’s brain, that one’s soul on earth has an energy and intensity that can guide all if listened to and followed. Walter then knew that by following his soul he could live in a righteous way and achieve true peace which many consider the ultimate earthly reward. 

Walter put away the thought of ending life thinking that even at 50 somehow, some way there was still good buried in him that he could put to good use. And he did! 

PS: In the days after his awakening Walter rose early and rested having learned that one’s soul winds are not threatening but calm breezes that needs to sensed, pondered. Walter truly felt sorry for the many that hold their hands up to block out these messages or turn their backs on them.  

There’s more to the story…

Walter, way back when, built an airplane with his buddy Skinny Briggs up in Northern NY where he was raised. The two got higher than a kite painting dope on the wings of the plane in the family’s garage. Then to test it out they took the motor out of Walter’s sister’s old Ford, bolted to the front of the plane, and connected the prop. He and Skinny pushed the plane to the end of the long driveway and, when the road was clear, Walter revved the engine and headed down Route 37. He got airborne in a matter of 50 feet and miraculously touched down several hundred yards down the road unscathed. That was the first and last flight of the “Bird” as they called her. The motor went back in the Ford before Lois even knew it was missing.                                                                     

The airplane incident showed Walter to be more capable at building and engineering than most trained in the field. These abilities did not go unnoticed by Bumpy shortly after Walter started showing up for work on time and hearing that he hadn’t been seen at Wits End for quite a while. Bumpy also noticed that his mechanic, Charlie, started asking Walter how to fix engine problems when he got stumped. Not more than a year later Walter was earning mechanics wages and in 1965 became so valuable he ended up partnering with Bumpy on gas station. All of this is not to mentioned that a fine, upstanding lady name Bev took a liking to Walter and the rest is a happy ending all due to the pond ripples that washed over Walter that terrible night and the messages welling up from somewhere deep inside him.