The Wrong Path

Charlie awoke to a blazing headache and the knowledge that he should have known better. Going out drinking on a night before he was supposed to work was a stupid idea. But he knew that he couldn’t call in sick; the boss would have his hide for sure because he had already missed three days this month.

With a gargantuan effort, Charlie rose out of bed towards the bathroom to relieve the pressure that was on his bladder. His head felt like three tons atop his stooping shoulders. While doing his business in the toilet, he noticed something that made him freeze instantly. The urine was dark red.

Cursing to himself, Charlie’s mind instantly went to the Big “C”. He knew that his piss shouldn’t be that color, and from his limited knowledge of sickness and diseases, he could think of no other explanation. A trip to his M.D. was in order. Without a doubt.

Fast forward to five weeks later, Charlie found himself sitting in his doctor’s office waiting for the results of his scan. Doctor Roberts entered the small room and gingerly closed the door behind him. His expression said it all.

“Charlie, I’m so sorry to tell you this but I have some bad news.”

Charlie’s entire being sagged as he anticipated the worst. What was he going to do? He was only 25 and was supposed to have a whole life ahead of him.

“The scans show that you have advanced prostate cancer, which has spread to some of your vital organs,” Roberts lamented.

Charlie burst into tears. “How much time do I have?” he pleaded.

“Every case is different, but in terms of probabilities, I’ll lay it on the line and say that we’re looking at three to five months,” the good doctor replied. 

The conversation dragged on for another fifteen minutes or so with Charlie sitting in dazed silence for the most part, and the doctor filling in further details while doing his best to offer condolences. This was one shitty day for Charlie, to say the least. To say the very least.

Later, on the walk home to his nearby apartment, Charlie passed through the park and noticed some kids playing on some swings and accompanying playground equipment. 

“If only I had my time back and could start over as a child like them,” Charlie mused. “I would live my life so differently.” But now there was so little time left and he had so many regrets. 

He thought in bitter disappointment how he should have listened to his parents more. He considered the multitude of sexual encounters he had experienced during his teenage years. How he regretted hooking up with all those girls! 

Well, maybe not that Charlotte back in grade 10. She was something all right…lead cheerleader she was…had a rack that sent him into orbit. “Stop that!” Charlie scolded himself.

He needed to concentrate on what lay in store for him in the near future, not indulge in childish fantasies. What he needed to do was to make a radical change in his behavior, for he had been taught that if he was a good person, then maybe there would be something to look forward to after he died. Maybe there was a heaven, after all, and if he played his cards right, then he would go there.

It was a matter of getting off the wrong path he had been on–heavy drinking, promiscuity, selfishness, pettiness, violence–and embarking on a new path that would lead to a celestial reward.

In the next few weeks, Charlie did his best to turn the page in his life. He did such things as giving up alcohol entirely, began attending Mass at the Cathedral several times, made amends with his estranged father who had dealt him a severe childhood, and basically fundamentally changed his colors. It wasn’t that hard really, given the short time he had left and the vast sum he was wagering for a positive eternal destiny.

Then one day a couple of months down the road, his cancer bill finally became due. He felt a sharp pain in his stomach to the point that it caused him to pass out. Had he not been all alone at the time, he probably could have been rushed to a hospital and given a bit more time to say his good-bye to the world. But that was not to be his fate.

Charlie’s demise happened, ironically, in the same place where he had discovered the illness that would take his life, namely, the bathroom in his apartment. He lay on the floor one minute in sheer agony, holding his insides with every ounce of strength he possessed. The next minute, he found himself outside his body staring down at it with calm reassurance. The brief struggle was over. Thank God! Now he would receive his reward.

Charlie could perceive everything around him with perfect clarity. His vision improved to a perfect 20/20, which was previously impossible without the aid of glasses. His hearing was crystalline clear. He could hear the water flowing through the pipes in the building with great ease. In fact, he could hear the sound of a cockroach scuttering across the floor near his body, its individual legs each making their own whooshing sounds.

But then Charlie felt his spirit leave the room, and he began his ascent. He started to rise through his apartment building. Up, up he went, but not before he briefly caught sight of an attractive brunette who was just getting out of the shower a couple of floors up. “I think I know her,” Charlie mused.

Nevertheless, the ascent continued and he was shot upward at an incalculable speed. As he passed through a narrow tunnel, Charlie swore he could faintly hear the echo of “Blue Suede Shoes” from somewhere. No matter what it was, the sound was gorgeous; the most satisfying music heard in his existence. What seemed like a long time and equally long distance, Charlie found himself standing in a garden that would have rivalled any throughout history. 

There, leaning against the base of a huge oak sat the figure of Mahatma Gandhi. “Greetings, favored one,” he said. “I am happy to welcome you into the afterlife.”

“Hello, sir.” Charlie replied. “I am so delighted to be here! Is this heaven?”

“Yes.” the Mahatma assured our protagonist.

Charlie was glad he had packed in all those good deeds before succumbing to his death. He had made the right decision in mending his ways. 

But the question struck him: if this was heaven and Gandhi was here to welcome him, then what about some of the things he had been taught in church? Were the Hindus, in fact, right in their picture of reality? But then he realized that he wasn’t a Hindu, and so what was he doing here? Maybe it was simply required of anyone who was heaven bound to be a kind and generous person who tried his or her best to be well behaved?

Gandhi could sense Charlie’s confusion and spoke up to comfort him.

“You are not here because you performed good deeds or stopped having sex with girls. Truly, you are here by virtue of learning how to play the guitar when you were thirteen. It was your musical aptitude that bought your ticket here.”

Charlie screamed. What was this madness?

Gandhi continued. “Lucky for me, I was a student of the violin during my college days. I have been able to advance my skills considerably during the time I have been here. I look forward to mastering the tuba next.”

It turned out that Charlie had won his salvation, but only because of his inherent love of music. He had been on the right path all along. Rock on!

END