Tapestry of a Life Well-Lived

A great deal can be learned about a person by who they surround themselves with. The crowds at their parties show what kind of person they aspire to be. Their funeral crowd shows what kind of person they were.

When a gathering of the latter sort turns into the former, well, that’s just good wake planning. Of course, it helped that the deceased was well-loved by the sort of people who could subsume their grief long enough to celebrate the life they’d shared. The intoxicants probably helped, too. Probably more than anything else, if judged solely by the rate at which they were consumed at the wake.

It was into this intoxicated haze of laughter and tears, mirth and grief, and longing and fond remembrance that the stranger inserted themself. There were people from various parts of the life of Professor Jackson “Doc J” Washington, PhD. Students and colleagues from the university where he taught philosophy and comparative religion met leaders and members of local churches, synagogues, mosques, temples, groves, and covens. Current members and former graduates of the half-dozen programs for disadvantaged youths he founded got the opportunity to meet his family and friends.

His modest house was far too small for such a gathering, so it was fittingly held at the newly named Jackson Washington Community Center in his neighborhood. In the spacious multi-use room, the stranger moved from group to group. In some cases, they stood and listened, gleaning what they could about Doc J’s life. Other times, they asked for stories that the speaker would consider exemplified the professor’s true nature.

The conversations swirled around the room, weaving an intricate tapestry of a long life, well-lived.

“I was in the South City Youth Sports League all through grade school, middle school, and high school. When I was trying to figure out what I was going to do after graduation, he asked what university I was going to. When I told him I probably wouldn’t be able to, he took the time to help me apply for scholarships and hired me in the League as a coach and mentor.”

The life of a fighter for the rights and dignities of others.

“…the time he brought an entire high school orchestra to the state house and had them perform on the house floor before the vote on cutting funding for extracurriculars.”

A man who went out of his way to help those less fortunate.

“…he showed up to the black-tie faculty dinner in sweats because he’d spent the entire day helping the family of one of the community center kids move out of the shelter into a new apartment. They didn’t know he was the one that paid the deposits to get the utilities turned on.”

A man who could see beyond his own preconceived notions and experience the viewpoint of others.

“…and after defending Aquinas, he turned around in the next debate and ripped every one of those arguments apart.”

The life of someone who took personal risks.

“…but the fact that he testified after the death threats was the key that got that slumlord locked up for reckless endangerment and criminal threat.”

The life of someone who found joy in teaching, even when not teaching.

“…a shot for every logical fallacy. We got so drunk before they were even halfway through the debate.”

There was a conversation that caught the stranger’s attention. They focused in on it, lest they miss anything.

“I know I’m not supposed to speak ill of the dead, but….”

“But what?”

“That bastard should be here. He’d turn this party up to eleven!” The speaker broke down into heaving sobs. “I miss him so fucking much!”

A man who was deeply missed.

The stranger moved away to watch interactions as people began to move between the groups. They watched an imam in a lively but friendly conversation with a young woman wearing a pride badge. In one part of the room, one of the professor’s former colleagues seemed to be giving advice to a young man from the community center, who seemed to hang on her every word.

The professor’s wife stood on one of the tables and clinked a spoon against her glass. “I would like to say something.”

The room grew quiet, and the stranger watched in anticipation.

“J used to call himself a ‘theistic atheist or atheistic theist.’ While that is just the sort of logical oxymoron he loved, he explained it as, ‘I don’t believe in a higher power because of any rational or logical reasoning, but from a combination of childhood indoctrination, societal pressure, and wishful thinking. In other words, I like to think there might be a god or gods.’” She laughed and wiped a tear from her face.

A man who valued intellectual honesty above all.

“While I don’t believe myself, if anyone deserves an eternal afterlife in some heaven or other, it’s J.” She raised her glass. “To J!”

The crowd responded in kind, repeating the toast, “To J!”

“The life of a man who was deeply loved,” the stranger said to themself.

The stranger stepped out of the room and walked through a door on the far side of the hallway that disappeared behind them. They stepped into a liminal space, an endless plane of grey with an omnidirectional grey light. They looked at the man standing in the space. “Tell me, Jackson Washington, what you think you deserve in your afterlife.”

Dr. J rubbed his chin. “That’s hard to say. Based on which criteria?”

“Your own.”

“Well, as a rational, thinking being, I know it should be whatever is best for the most people and does the least harm. As a selfish being, however, I would prefer the lack of suffering and presence of pleasure or joy.”

The stranger’s form changed, from a nondescript, short, slight person to that of a pulsing light. “In that case, I have a proposal.”

“What proposal is that?”

“While this is not, perhaps, the afterlife you envisioned, your entire intellect, personality, and sense of self, have been uploaded into one of our devices. We are offering you a virtual existence where you will continue to be, and in turn, you will be tasked to teach us your philosophies and religions.”

“I’m in a simulation?” he asked.

“You will be. This space is not a simulation, per se, but an evaluation space.” The stranger dimmed and brightened as it spoke.

“Who, then, are you?”

The stranger changed shape again and looked like one of the aliens known as “grey” in the UFO community. “We are from another world,” they said. “We don’t look like this, but this is what your brain perceives as ‘aliens from space’ so, that is the visualization I will use.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to show me your true self?”

The stranger morphed into indescribable colors and non-Euclidean shapes that Dr. J was certain would give him a headache, if he still had a physical head. He removed his glasses and realized that didn’t help — or hurt — his eyesight.

Depending on which way he turned or tilted his head, the stranger’s shape morphed and changed in ways that defied what he knew of physics. After a few moments of that, Dr. J chuckled. “Okay, maybe the little grey alien is better. At least then I know where to look when I’m talking to you.”

The stranger changed back. “Have you considered the offer? If you wish, we will turn you off and erase your data from this device. I, however, am hopeful that you will accept, because I believe that we can learn a lot from you before we attempt full contact with humanity.”

Dr. J thought for a moment. “You know what? I’ll say yes — for now. As long as I have your assurance that if I change my mind, you’ll let me go.”

“Certainly.”

“How long will it take us to reach your world?”

“We’re already there.” The alien stranger nodded as the endless plane turned into a park-like setting. “Being creatures that exist in five, rather than just four, dimensions, we can easily fold spacetime to simply step from one place and time to another.”

“That’s some impressive power.” Dr. J sat on the lavender grass-like ground covering. “How are using that power to effect change for the better?”

The stranger joined him on the ground. “Beginning to teach already? I’m ready.”