Freezing Warmth

It had been twenty-four years since she'd last seen it, but the place looked exactly the same. From the naked eye, it would be bold to judge the broken-down exterior of the tree. Antiquated and dilapidated, it was a ramshackle treehouse. Yet there was an aura of warmth that seemed to outline the tree, as if someone was calling out to her, pulling her closer. The attraction was magnetic, she couldn't quite repel it. Each step towards the tree seemed to free her of her pain, her misery, her suffering. The tree was the gateway to the future, as well as an iconic symbol of the past. Putting these characteristics together caused her face to flush in confusion. Regardless, she lifted her feet off the ground and painstakingly waddled through the thick grass, towards the treehouse.

And then she heard his voice. Crisp and nonchalant, happy-go-lucky. Oh his voice, you could tell that he was grinning as he said her name. "Isobel..." A pang of emotions swept over her. She had too many questions, too many thoughts and too many feelings. She stood there, with the sun shining against her auburn hair. "Isobel," he repeated. "Jackson? JACKSON!" She could faintly make out a figure, leaning effortlessly against the railing of the treehouse. He shifted his weight forward, raised his arms and waved. "Isobel," he repeated. Then came a gust of strong wind that seemed to carry her up the stairs of the treehouse, all the way to him. His smile, oh his smile was the sun, it lit up the world. She hadn't seen the sun ever since his death three years back, but there he was, standing in front of her, lighting up the universe. "I've missed you..." The world seemed blurry, perhaps from the tears, or the presence of sunlight after three whole years... or maybe she was just tired. "I know," he answered easily. Everything was so easy with him: their marriage, their family, their jobs, the world. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"Why did you bring me here?" She asked. It was where he had proposed to her, twenty-four years ago. The sunny spot right by the beach, topped off with a gorgeous palm tree that carried a robust treehouse. With the breeze against him, he responded "Iz, I can't leave you." She sighed and nodded. They were supposed to have been in it together for the long run, forever, but alas fate had been a fickle mistress; heartbreaking. A car accident had placed her in a pit of sorrows and darkness, repeatedly drowning alone in the darkness. "Isobel, I can't leave you." He said, again. "I know, Jackson, but you did anyway. You left me and went to the light." She said softly. He stepped closer and took her hand. "Isobel, I can't leave you... but you can leave me. You SHOULD leave me. Fight for it, Isobel. Leave the light." He insisted. 

Leave the light? LEAVE the light. LEAVE THE LIGHT. How could she leave? She didn’t want to leave. Leaving the light was equivalent to leaving Jackson. How could she… fight? Everything was so easy with Jackson. At that moment, she was at ease. How could she sacrifice her warmth for the cold darkness of life? She couldn’t. She just wanted to be with Jackson again. At peace. He sighed deeply and shook his head. “I know,” He whispered, “It’s tough, really tough. But I’m here, always and forever. Even when you can’t see me or hear me, I’ll always be here.” She didn’t understand it, she couldn’t understand any of it. Was this amnesia of some sort? 

“Iz, you need to promise me that you’ll leave the light. You’re confused, and that’s all right, but when the time is right, you need to leave the light.” She nodded, it seemed as if that was all she knew how to do. She just wanted to stay with him and to never leave. “Okay,” She whispered. And everything went dark.

“Am I dead?” She wondered. She could see the world, but it was fading… With every breath she took, her footsteps grew even lighter. Jackson. Where is Jackson? All she could remember was the warmth of his touch, his longing gaze, as he begged her to leave the light. What did that even mean? She struggled to grasp onto her surroundings. She could faintly make out a bedside lamp, and a pale blue bed sheet. And hell, what was that beeping? The shrill, irritating purr sounded like an alarm of some sort. “She’s going into V-fib! Charge to 300! Clear!” She looked down at the bed, she could see a doctor and three nurses huddled over a woman. She couldn’t recognise who it was, with the forest of tubes that swaddled the woman. She squinted tightly, and closed her eyes. Is that me?

And there she was, at the beach, again, standing in front of Jackson. “I’ll see you again, Isobel. This isn’t goodbye, it’s a simple greeting.” She grasped his hand tightly and squeezed it. “See you again, Jackson,” was the last thing she said before being sucked back into oblivion. 

She tried to open her eyes, but a blinding brightness surrounded her, eating her whole. She squinted slowly. The hum of a machine was working in the background, while she lay on a cold surface. “Metastatic melanoma… stage three,” a voice spoke out. The cold darkness hit her as she made sense of the hospital ward. “Isobel? You’re awake! You gave us quite a scare, ” Oh, she could recognise those pale green scrubs anywhere. 

She had seen him, whilst she was in the triangle, on the brink of death. She was dying. Alas, life had not surprised her, for it had thrown another cold shock at her. Forty-eight years of life, and that seemed to be all. It didn’t matter, though. Nothing mattered anymore. If it was time to go, then that was it. She had seen Jackson again, she touched him and talked to him, and that was all that mattered.