A Heavenly Meeting

It was December 30, 2013. An infamous date to be sure. It was the day he died. As George felt himself released from his 83-year-old body, shriveled almost beyond recognition from atrophy, lack of nutrition and dementia, he felt free. For the first time in nearly four years, he felt like himself, even though he was dead. What an odd sensation but other than feeling freedom, he felt elated. He could think clearly, understand what he was thinking and above all, felt what he loved most in life, that he was in control. 

It dawned on him that he had left earth as he knew it and all he could see were fluffy white and pink clouds. Having been raised a rather staunch Methodist, he had a pretty good idea that he was at the “pearly gates”. He drew in a deep breath, another odd sensation given that he knew he was no longer living or breathing. He was expecting to hear a loud booming voice or hear thunder clapping or something else spectacular. Instead, it got foggy, and the clouds turned into many shades of pastels. It was beautiful, just as he had always been told it was, but it was also disconcerting. 

As the fog cleared, he squinted and noted the outline of what appeared to be a young man. He walked or floated towards him and out of the silence, he heard “GEORGE”! Startled, he jumped back and suddenly was staring into the face of a very handsome, blond young man wearing a West Point Uniform. “Fritz?”

Fritz stepped forward into the light and walked towards him, with the same straight posture he had when George had last seen him, in 1951. Fritz rushed towards him, arms outstretched and embraced him in the longest hug he had ever had. “George, do you know what day this is?” asked Fritz. George replied that indeed he did know what day it was because it was the day his life on earth had ended, December 30, 2013. Fritz stared at him and said, “My dearest old friend, do you not remember that I died in that plane crash returning to West Point after Christmas and that the date I died was December 30, 1951?”

George gasped and was suddenly speechless. He had remembered Fritz every day of his adult life.  After Fritz was killed, George never again allowed himself to make that close of a friend. He simply could not face that kind of loss a second time. He and Fritz had been the best and truest of friends. Two days before the plane crash in 1951, George received a telegram from Fritz planning an outing together the day they both arrived back at the Academy. George had been there, waiting, but Fritz never arrived. It seemed odd at the time as Fritz had always been the most punctual and reliable person he knew. 

By the following day, terrible news had reached West Point. A plane carrying 19 cadets all returning from Christmas Break, had crashed into a mountainside in Arizona during a bad storm. No one knew who had survived or if any had survived. The only news was that the plane had not arrived and that all radio contact had ceased very abruptly. The date was December 30, 1951. 

A few days later, it was known that none had survived, and bodies had been recovered. George was out of his mind with grief and disbelief. A week later, he was a pallbearer for Fritz’s casket and later he stood at the gravesite at the West Point Cemetery, watching the funeral progress with all Military Honors provided. After that, George went numb. He seemed present and went through all the motions, graduating in June of the following year. But he was never the same again and always knew part of him had died on December 30, 1951. 

George snapped into the present and said, “So you’re telling me that two best friends died on the exact same day, 62 years apart and that now, you’re the welcoming committee for this place?”

Fritz laughed his deep, hearty laugh which sent shivers down George’s spine as it was like they were both still young men from six decades ago. It was as if nothing had changed, and time had not eroded their comradery or closeness at all. Fritz had been the Student Body President of his high school, was incredibly popular and could sing like an angel. He dragged George along with him when he joined the Glee Club, which turned out to be one of the most pleasurable experiences at West Point. Because of Fritz, George enjoyed choral singing for the rest of his life. He may not have recognized it for what it was, but it brought Fritz back to him for a moment, each time he performed with some group. 

“George, I’m not the welcoming committee, I asked to come to meet you because you always were the one helping me get oriented to new things and to feel more at ease. So, I wanted to be there for you, when you arrived here. I missed you my dear friend and I have watched over you as much as I could while you lived. I wasn’t allowed to intervene or interfere, but I tried to shield you whenever I could. Remember that helicopter incident in Viet Nam..where it got hit but was still able to land instead of crashing? Well, that was me. I got in some trouble for that, but I had to help. Your pilot got hit in the femoral artery and was dead the moment after he landed it, but you walked away. You sure had a hell of a military career; George and I am so proud of you.”

George’s eye welled up with tears and he finally let them go as he sobbed grief held tightly in check for 62 years. “Fritz, my best friend. I missed you for the rest of my life”.