Life's Purpose

Eighty-three years. Eighty-three years of struggle and work. Eighty-three long years of exhaustion and pain, heartbreak, and devastating sorrow. Raising babies for them to wrestle with life just to produce more babies to raise. Eighty-three years and this is where she ends up. Irene looked about her in the brightly lit cafeteria where residents of Oak and Pine Senior Home ate their food, if you can call it that. The mush in front of her was supposed to be meatloaf and soft carrots, but the smell radiated that of something dead and rotting. She had no appetite.

All those years gone to end up here amongst the forgotten and forgetful. She couldn’t help but to think of their lives as well. What memories swirled behind those dim clouded eyes, if they could remember anything at all? What hard decisions did they make that altered their lives forever? What vigorous work did they endure to turn their hands to sandpaper and be riddled with arthritis? Despite it all, they too ended up here. With so many years shoved into one room, it was almost too suffocating for Irene.

“You’ve barely touched your food,” a nurse said approaching her table. “Very observant of you,” Irene couldn’t help but to be spiteful when in such a foul mood. Ignoring the comment, the nurse sat at her table and picked up Irene’s spoon. “Can I help you with it?” 

“If you mean eating it yourself, have at it. I have no interest.”

“Now, Irene, you didn’t eat dinner last night or any food today. We gotta keep you running.”

“Ha!” Irene couldn’t help but to laugh at the phrase, “Young lady, I haven’t ran in so many years; I’ve forgotten what it feels like. My knees can barely hold my weight, so walking is also out of the question.”

“Still can’t deny yourself the few pleasures of life, such as food.” 

“If this is considered a pleasure, death can go ahead and take me,” Irene said grimacing at her plate.

Another night spent sitting in the sun room watching tv with the other inmates. Another night of blank stares and drooling mouths. Another night of seeing a couple family members walk in and hold their loved one’s decrepit hand as the eyes that once were full of life stare back at them with no recognition. Irene hasn’t had a visitor in years. No children or grandchildren to dote on her as she sat in her wheelchair, which was fine. It’s not like she had much to say about her days. They were all the same. She had no interest in hearing about theirs. Life was moving on without her, and the less she heard about it, the more she didn’t have to feel left out.

Bedtime couldn’t come any sooner. It was the only escape she had from this bubble she lived in. The only chance she had to run through fields and see her long lost husband. He was the only true joy in her life. Long gone now. Death took him before his body became too old. It instead turned against him and grew tumors. A nurse rolled Irene down the hallway past doors to other rooms. Children’s drawings littered the walls along with paintings of sceneries that patients will never get to see in their life again. In her room, the nurse assisted her in getting into bed and tucked her in like a child. “You need anything else, Miss Irene?” he asked kindly. “No, thank you,” she said impatiently. He wished her goodnight and closed the door behind him leaving nothing but silence in the room.

Irene could feel herself drifting off into sleep. Her body relaxed and her mind at peace, but then a sound broke the quietness. Was that the door? She opened her eyes and saw that she was no longer alone. A tall man with dark hair and dark eyes took a seat next to her bed. His smile was slight but kind. Despite the intrusion, Irene didn’t feel afraid of the man. In fact, she felt quite comforted by his presence. “Hello, Irene.” he spoke in soft words. “Hello,” she said back. 

“Do you know who I am?”

“Can’t rightly say I do.”

“Unfortunately, I have many names, but most call me Friend.”

“Should I call you that as well?”

He chuckled, “If you wish.”

“And what, Friend, are you doing in my room tonight.” 

His smile was still kind, but his eyes turned sad, almost mournful. He stood and reached out his hand, “Let’s go for a walk.” She almost protested, to tell the man that a walk would be impossible. But as he took her hand in his, she found herself to be weightless in his grip. Pulling her in an upright position, she felt no pain in her joints and found that her knees could withstand her weight. For the first time in a long time, she could stand. Irene looked down at her feet in amazement and even did a few jumps, giggling like a child. She looked up at the man with the biggest grin on her face and asked, “Where to, Friend?” He took her arm in his and escorted her out the door. Only, when they exited her room, they didn’t enter the hallway. 

A deep, dark void opened before them with little balls of light floating around. Even her footsteps created ripples of light. Strangely enough, Friend’s did not. Now that she was thinking about it, she barely felt his arm as he was holding hers. It felt more like a wisp of air holding it up. She looked behind her to see where they came from, but was met with more void. “What is this place?” she asked. “This place has no name,” he answered, “but it holds your whole life.” He reached out his free hand and plucked one of the balls of light from the air. It grew brighter and brighter until the light blinded Irene. She shut her eyes tight. “Humans never understand the impact they have on the world. Whether good or bad, their very existence changes things. Other people, the environment, everything.” Irene opened her eyes as he spoke and found herself in a familiar place. Her childhood home.

Groups of children play in the yards of a neighborhood Irene hasn’t seen in a very long time. Her own house stood amongst other identical homes. She immediately recognized the bright blue mailbox she used to race her father to to check, the rose bushes her mother worked hard on to grow in front of the living room window, and her favorite tree that she used to climb with her friends. In fact, two girls are climbing it now. “Is that,” Irene couldn’t finish her sentence because of the shock she was feeling. “You?” Friend answered, “Indeed. And your friend Addie. Do you remember this particular day?” Irene thought for a second and then gasped. “She’s going to fall!” As if taking Irene’s words as a cue, Addie lost her grip and fell to the ground below. Little Irene screamed out to her friend and climbed down. Older Irene tried to run out to her as well, but Friend held onto her arm. “It has already happened. We are simply observing.”

“What is the point of me seeing this?”

“Tell me what happened.”

“I screamed for my mother,” as Irene told him what happened, it played out in front of them, “she immediately called for the ambulance, and they took her to the hospital.”

“And?”

“I stuck by her side as she recovered. Day and night. Father insisted I came home every once in a while, but I refused. She was my best friend.”

“You felt responsible?”

“Of course!”

“And she healed?”

“Yes, thank goodness.”

“Did you know that staying by her side would change your life?”

“What? How?” 

Friend reached out his hand again and took another ball of light that Irene didn’t know was there. Once again, the light grew into a blinding brightness and brought them elsewhere. A restaurant. “Big Joey’s,” Irene said, recognizing the diner she spent many meals at. “Quite a busy place,” Friend remarked as he sat them down at the only open table. “Oh, yes. Joey made the best burgers in town and the milkshakes were to die for.” Friend smiled at her, “I guess you would say food is one of the few pleasures in life.” Irene looked him in the eyes. They were so very dark. Black, even. As black as the void they were in before. She still wasn’t scared of him, though. “Yes, I suppose you’re right,” she finally said.

The door to the diner opened to reveal another version of Irene. A twenty-something year old wearing a pretty blue dress and sandals. Irene had forgotten how beautiful she was. Younger Irene scanned the diner and found Addie sitting at the bar. A man also sat beside Addie, and Irene felt tears well up in her eyes. “Addie introduced you to your husband, didn’t she?” Friend asked, watching the three of them chat. “Yes,” Irene answered, trying but failing to hold back tears, “My Ronald.”

“You see, if it wasn’t for your love and dedication to Addie, you two would not have stayed friends, and she would never have set you up with her friend from college, Ronald.”

“And she would not have become my children’s godmother.”

“As you say.”

“She never did have kids, but she loved mine as if they were her own.”

“Thus changing her life and your children’s.”

“Ronald and I owed her so much. She gave so much to our family. She was our family.”

“She was happy to do it. All of it. I promise.”

Irene looked at Friend again. “And how would you know that?” Again with the small but gentle smile. “Come, we are almost done with our walk,” he said, taking her arm once more. Grabbing another ball of light, they appeared in another scene. The hospital room of Irene’s nightmares. Ronald laid in the bed with older Irene, not yet the age Irene is now, holding his hand and crying. “No, Friend,” Irene cried pulling back on his arm, “I can’t see this.” Friend held steady and put his hand on hers. “You must. You have almost forgotten.”

“The hell I have! I replay this over and over in my mind.”

“You remember what he told you?” Irene stared at him, realizing he was right. She couldn’t recall Ronald’s last words. Only the pain and sadness in them. She stopped pulling and observed. “Ron, please, please, don’t leave me,” the Irene holding Ronald’s hand cried. Ronald moved his hand from Irene’s to caress her face. “My love,” he said, “we both knew this would happen.”

“Not now!”

“Yes now. Not years from now, not tomorrow, and not any time before. Now. There is no other way.”

“I can’t lose you. You are my whole life.”

“No, Irene. I am simply a part of it. Life cannot be measured or chalked up to be a singular thing, let alone a person. I may die, but my life won’t end. It’ll continue through you, through our children, and through whoever else came onto my path. Everything we’ve done and everyone we have met have been affected by our presence. You may grow old, Irene, and you will continue to affect everything. Make it count. It's a good life, Irene. Remember that. Continue on your life with and without me. I love you, my girl, and I always will.”

Irene broke into tears with her face buried in the hospital bed. She eventually fell asleep that way, exhausted from crying, and when she woke, Ronald was gone. His body remained, but there was no soul left to control it. Within a blink, Irene and Friend were back in the void, and he was standing in front of her. “I could show you more of your life, but these were the key points. They may seem small, but they caused huge ripples of affects to you and everyone around, much like your footsteps here in the void. Your husband understood what life was. A journey of endless connections. Cause and effects. Yes, you were right. Life is hard. So much pain and work. However, the problem isn’t your life itself. The problem is that you had forgotten the good things. The love you experienced and gave. The joys in your life. After Ronald died, you even forgot his words. All you could remember was the heartbreak and struggle. As a result, you pushed those you affected away, leaving you alone in a group home. I am sorry, Irene. But celebrate for the life you had. It was filled with joy despite what you may think.” Irene finally understood. “You’re Death, aren’t you?” No smile this time. Only sadness. “That is one of my names, although, I do prefer Friend because I am, Irene. I am your friend. Your friend who will accompany you to your last destination.” He reached out his hand once more and said nothing else. 

Irene stood there and looked around her. The void that is filled with twinkling lights holding passages to her life seemed so quiet yet buzzed with everything that she had ever done. And what a life it was. Ronald and Friend were right. She couldn’t believe it took her until she died to realize it. It was a good life, and she hoped that she was leaving it in a good place. She took his hand, “One last stroll?”