Evelyn’s Journey

[TW-This story discusses death]

Evelyn put her hand to her face in an effort to wipe her brow. It slipped to the side of her head, not achieving its goal. Her gray curls, tinged with sweat, clung to her forehead. Disheveled and on the verge of tears, she had seen her children staring at her, before they had to leave. She hadn’t wanted them to go, but Dr. Marshall had ushered them out of the room.

It was what it was. No longer able to speak, she had no control over anything that was happening. Michael would be here soon, she knew. Her family had to leave before Michael would come see her. To help her move.

“What can I say. It just cannot be done,” she muttered. She got up and put the suitcase on the bed. “How on earth does he expect me to fit everything in here?” Frustrated, she looked at all she wanted to take with her.

Slowly, she started packing, handling each prized item with care. When the suitcase was full, she sat back down on the bed, dejected. “I can’t fit it all. Not even half way there. I need at least one more suitcase, or better, two more.” Tears started to gently fall from her eyes.

“There, there, Evelyn,” came a voice. “It will be all right. Just bring the ones that are the most important to you. Leave the rest.”

“Michael. You’re early, aren’t you? I thought I’d have a little longer. Are you sure it’s time?”

“Yes, my dear. It is just about time to go. You have a few more minutes to finalize what you are bringing. It has to fit in one suitcase.”

“I can’t. I have accumulated so much. You can’t possibly expect me to fit everything into this.” She pointed to the suitcase on the bed. “It’s too tiny.”

“You know the rules, Evelyn. Whatever doesn’t fit must be left behind. And what remains will surely be cared for by others. There’s no need to fret.” 

“Can’t I borrow space in someone else’s suitcase?” she pleaded. “I’m sure there are people who have space. I’ve been lucky in life. I have had more than most. But it really isn’t fair to expect me to leave so much behind.”

“I’m truly sorry, but it's one suitcase per person,” Michael patiently explained. “That is all you get to bring.”

Resigned to starting over, Evelyn carefully unpacked what she had already put in the suitcase, gently placing all her memories on the bed. “Every one of these is precious to me,” she said, tears flowing more freely now, streaking the make-up the nurse had applied before her family had come to see her. “They are what made me who I am.”

“I know it’s not an easy task. But, some memories are more precious than others,” Michael said. “I’m sure we can figure this out. Let’s start with the easy stuff – the low hanging fruit, as you earthlings like to say. What makes you sad to remember?”

“There’s no quick answer to that. One hundred and one years. I’ve accumulated a lot of memories - both good and bad. Hmmm. Let’s see.” She started to rummage through the memories piled on the bed. “Right! Here’s one I’ll be glad to forget. World War II. That’s a terrible memory. I’ll be happy to leave that one behind.” 

Evelyn tossed that memory off the bed. 

“Oh, and the Great Depression, segregation, slavery, the Cold War…er, the assignations of John F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King Jr., Fukushima, hurricanes like Katrina, the Vietnam War, nuclear weapons. Wow.  That’s a lot of extra baggage I don’t need to take with me. I can toss all of those.”

“See? You can do this,” Michael encouraged. “Get rid of those bad memories. No need to burden yourself with any of that negative energy where we are going. Those types of recollections are best left for the historians, who record past events so humans can learn from their mistakes. They don’t need to weigh you down any longer. Now, let's look at some of the personal memories that brought you grief. Those can stay behind, too.” 

Michael picked up the memory of Evelyn’s father’s funeral, and one that detailed burying the family dog in the backyard. He looked at Evelyn. She nodded and he placed them off the bed.

“Okay. I see what you mean. No sad ones. But there still are a lot that I need. I have to take the birth of my children, my first kiss, my wedding, my grandchildren…so many. I’ve had a good, long life.”

“Of course. Those are personal treasures. Just go through the memories one at a time and decide if they need to come with you or if it is fine to let them go. It’ll be down to one suitcase in no time. Only happy remembrances should make the trip. The best of the best.”

Michael waited patiently, while Evelyn sorted through her memories, slowly filling the suitcase.

After a while, she said, “I’m almost done. These are the last of them. My youngest, a doctor. I was so proud when she graduated medical school. I can’t forget that one. And my only great-grandchild, Bethany. I saw her take her first steps. David, my grandson, his smile when he made the varsity baseball team. Oh, and finally…I couldn’t go without this one. My husband, Karl – how he smiled when I told him I was pregnant for the first time. He was such a dear man. We had seventy-two years together, before he passed. He made me so happy.” 

Michael smiled as Evelyn put the last memory in her suitcase and fastened it shut. It was time to go.

“There. I wish I could bring you all,” Evelyn said, looking at the memories still laid out on the bed. “But I think I have all the important ones.” Turning to Michael, she added, “I’m ready now. Will it take long?”

“No, I should think it will be fairly quick. I’ll be with you the whole way. . . Here we go.”

“Wait!” Evelyn cried out. “I forgot something. I must have. I can’t remember what, exactly, but…but I feel it. I forgot something. A memory. We have to go back!”

“You have everything you need, Evelyn,” Michael responded, kindly. “We cannot return. What’s done is done. Please don’t worry.”

“I need to go back,” Evelyn moaned weakly. “I left…something…I can't remember...”

***

Dr. Marshall exited the room with the unenviable task of informing the family. Evelyn had begun her journey to the unknown. It had been expected, but it was still sad. The family huddled close together and hugged each other, praying, unable to stop the flow of tears. Most of the arrangements had already been made, according to Evelyn’s wishes. Peter, the oldest wished her god-speed. 

As the family departed the hospital, they began re-telling stories of a time gone by, filled with precious memories that Evelyn had spoken about during her lifetime.

And as Michael guided Evelyn to her new home, Karl was there waiting.