Death's Door

Death’s Door

There was that song again, it tapped at my temples with its drowsy tone. Where had I heard it before? I couldn’t remember, I was stuck somewhere between dreaming and reality. On the edge of waking but still holding the hand of a dream.

My eyelashes flutter against my face as I try to open my eyes, their lids heavier than normal. I wanted to sleep a little longer, but the blasted song would not stop playing. Dancing in my ears and forcing me to wake before I am ready. What had I been dreaming? I wanted to bring back whatever it was holding me in its distant world but still the song wouldn’t let me concentrate. My eyes open, and with a stiff neck I grudgingly turn toward the alarm clock. The music stops in the room but not in my head. I already know it will follow me all day until something with a catchier tune comes along to replace it. I wish I could remember it, but all I can muster is the hum of the tune. The lyrics allude me as I climb out of bed and wonder if I am getting the onset of the flu. My tired limbs are sore and I can feel a fog starting in my head making me groggy.

I head toward the kids’ room, but my body is moving in slow motion. I knock and peek inside, both are completely covered by their blankets.      “Time to get up, guys! Let’s go! Don’t wanna be late!” I yell. As I turn, I hear their moans of protest and I chuckle.

My husband, Chris, has already left for work. He’s usually gone before the sun comes up and I take the boys to school every morning. Stumbling into the kitchen, feeling worse as I go, I try to remember what I did last night while the Keurig makes my coffee.

I twist my long blonde hair into a bun, wondering if I had more than a glass of wine the night before. The sounds of the boys fighting one another, both trying to use the toilet at the same time, trickles down the hall. I’m too tired to yell again and the coffee isn’t ready yet. They need to fight it out and get over themselves.

After grabbing my coffee, I blow on it as I head back to my room. I want to gulp as much down as I can, so I have the energy to put on something other than pajamas. It’s while I pass by my closet that I get the oddest sense of de ja vu. I sigh, knowing it’s because of the dream I had, but still can’t seem to remember. It’s remnants still cling to me like a frightened toddler.

It being my day off and my only plans are to run the boys to school and do a little grocery shopping, I dress in a t-shirt and jeans. I'm surprised to see the boys are ready on time and we head out the door. I turn on the radio and hear the end of the song that keeps toying with me. The boys start fighting in the backseat.

“Mom! Gavin won’t stop trying to pinch me!” Easton whines as they slap one another in the rear-view mirror.

“You pinched me first!” Gavin wails as he tries to punch Easton in the shoulder. His seat belt prohibits him from following through with his strike.

“Stop it, both of you! Don’t make me pull over!” I holler, silently wondering if I should get a boxing ring and let them get it out of their system. I ignore them, trying to concentrate on what I am supposed to get at the store until we arrive at the school.

  I drop the boys off, blowing them kisses that they ignore. Telling them I love them gets a groan and, “Yeah, me, too.” reply.

I roll my eyes for the second time and crank the radio; damn song played without me realizing and I just hear the end again. I wonder if I should take a nap after shopping. After all their dad picks them up after school today, I have time to squeeze in a nap. With a yawn I decide it’s a good idea and make it the plan. Hopefully, this damn song will go away with it.

~~~~

Wait...I want to laugh at the sudden onset of de ja vu. My eyelids are heavy, and I don’t feel as though I have slept at all. I want to get up, but something is weighing me down, my body feels is heavy, and it takes everything I have to get my eyes to open. My vision is a little blurry and I try to look around, but my bedroom looks foreign to me. My head lies back on the pillow again and I close my eyes for a moment. When I reopen them, I blink several times before my bedroom is in focus. I decide I should start my coffee first. I rise from my bed and my eyes fall on the closet door as a soft tapping breaks the silence in my room.

Is someone knocking? No. Don’t be ridiculous.

My eyes narrow. It sounds like someone is knocking. It looks like the same, plain white door with a golden handle, yet I swear I hear someone gently knocking. A slow ringing begins in my ears, and a pressure builds, stretching my brain into a pounding ache. Yet, I can still hear someone knocking on my closet door.

Knock...Knock...knock.

My legs are hard to move like wading through water against the current, as I approach the closet door. My hand stops before reaching the handle, and the anxiety of being late slams into my chest. I fight the curious urge and head to the kitchen to make coffee. I ignore the knocking, convincing myself it’s my imagination. How would someone be knocking from the other side?

The song refuses to leave me no matter what I do.

I drop the boys off and try to tell them I love them but their annoyance with one another is causing them to ignore me. They throw me some half-hearted waves goodbye before heading toward the school. I sigh and pull away toward the grocery store.

~~~~

There is a sudden flash, like a camera snapping photos and displaying each one to me in stills. I could see the boys fighting in the rear-view mirror after dropping them off. I’m driving to…wait…where?

That damn song! It’s pounding in my head and my eyes feel glued shut, and my body is stiff.

Knock...knock...knock.

Even though it came with difficulty, I sit up, my head is aching, and the knocking is loud. Where is the knocking coming from? It’s several moments before I realize it is coming from my closet.

The knocking is urgent, pounding and I briefly wonder why I am not frightened by it. I stand, but my unsteadiness causes me to fall. I put my hand on the bed to regain my balance before I walk to the door. My hand rests on the handle, and I stop. I need to get the boys to school and go to the grocery store.

  KNOCK...KNOCK...KNOCK.                        My hand grips the handle and I turn it. The light seeping out is so bright my eyes burn, and I squeeze them shut, turning my face away from its radiance.

“Open your eyes, Megan.” The voice is male and familiar, so I open one eye to peek at the source. The face before me is one I haven’t seen in many years but still as I remember it.

“Grandpa?” I croak, my voice hoarse as if I have not used it in a long time.

“It’s time to go, Megan. You’ve held on long enough. It’s time to let go,” he says to me as he extends his hand. The light behind him illuminates his frame. Making his already kind features seem angelic now.

“But the boys...they have to go to school, and I need to go to the grocery...” I stammer, not knowing what he means, yet not shocked to see him after his death twenty years ago.

He shakes his head and walks closer to me, touching my shoulder. “All is well, Megan. Let go of the physical now, it is time to move on.” As he speaks, I notice his eyes deepen in color. They pull me into their blue depths and remind me of events forgotten.

I had risen on time, made my coffee, and woken the boys for school on my day off. We left at our usual time and the boys fought in the backseat as they always do.

“Mom! Gavin won’t stop trying to pinch me!” Easton whines as I see them slapping at one another in the rear-view mirror.

“You pinched me first!” Gavin wails as he tries to punch Easton in the shoulder.

“Stop it, both of you! Don’t make me pull over!” I holler, wondering if I should get a boxing ring and let them get it out of their system.

I finally drop the boys off, blowing them kisses that they ignore and telling them I love them only to hear, “Yeah, me, too.” in return. Sighing, I crank the radio.

The grocery store isn’t busy since it’s still early. As I grab a shopping cart and enter, I make eye contact with Nathan. One of the tellers that works at the bank branch inside the store. He’s lifting the metal gate, opening for the business day. He nods his hello and I smile. We run into each other when he brings his kids in for illness, or checkups, at the pediatric office where I work as nurse.

I reach into my purse and retrieve my grocery list and head toward the cereal aisle first. I really feel like I need a nap and so I get the few things I need and then start to head to the front. I’m thinking of making spaghetti for dinner and spy a couple boxes of pasta and jars of sauce on an end cap that are for sale. I grab some before bee- lining to the cashier.

I wasn’t paying attention as I started to load my groceries on the belt.

“I thought you said no one was in here!” I heard an angry voice yell. I look up to see Nathan, the cashier, and what I assume is the store manager. All on their knees with their hands behind their heads. They are all facing my direction. Another man stands over them, dressed in black pants and a hooded jacket that matches. He has a ski mask over his face, his green eyes are blazing at me. It is then I see the semi-automatic in his left hand. It’s now pointed at me.

“Get over here,” he growls at me and points to where the others are. I drop the spaghetti sauce on the conveyor belt, then head toward them. “This is why I had the door locked! No surprises! But you failed to mention her!”

“I d-didn’t know, I-I’m sorry...” the store manager stammers, his face turns red, and his eyes are watering. The cashier is crying, she looks to be around nineteen and I am kneeling next to her now. I want to comfort her, but I can already feel a panic in my gut.

The unknown man shoves the gun against Nathan’s head. “Get me the money now!” Nathan stands and heads to the bank, slipping behind the counter. “No funny business either! No alarms or calls!” Nathan nods. The man turns back to us and notices me watching them.

“Turn around, bitch!” he screams, pointing the gun at me. I quickly turn back around and face the registers. The cashier starts sobbing harder now and I try to hush her a little.

“Shh, it’s okay. Just be calm, he will leave once he gets what he wants.” I tell her.

“I can’t help it...” she cries. He hears us.

“You plotting something over here?” The anger and desperation are obvious in his voice as he now stands over me and the cashier.

She shakes her head, as do I. He bends down to her, “You’re really pretty, you know that? You wanna come with me? I can buy you something pretty...” He runs the gun barrel down her cheek and her sobs turn into wails. He starts yelling at her to shut up, but it only makes her wail harder. With a scoff he walks over and yanks a bag from Nathan who has finished filling it with cash. He grabs the cashier by the arm and yanks her up.

“You’re coming with me!” he growls. She struggles against him, and the store manager jumps up at the same time I do. Chaos ensues at this point, and we are grabbing at the girl. I push at the gunman, trying to wedge myself between him and her. It was then that it happened, I can see that now.

It isn’t as loud as I would’ve expected it to be, a small popping sound—nothing like the movies. The pain doesn’t hit at first, the shock settles first. I fall to my knees, my abdomen feeling cold and wet, my shirt starting to stick to me. I can still hear shouting, screaming and in a fog, I can see the others still struggling with one another.

I hear another pop. I watch the gunman fall to his knees. The cashier tripping backward and screaming so loud I fear glass may shatter.

Nathan is suddenly by my side and, it’s then I realize I’ve fallen, and I am lying on my back. I look at him, tremors running through me.

“An ambulance is coming! Hold on! For the love of God hold on!” He has my hand, but I can’t feel it, his voice sounds muffled, like we are under water. I hear something else now...the music playing over the PA of the store.

I now recognize the song, the one that has been stuck in my mind...Death’s Door by Depeche Mode...my death song.

My eyes focus on images of my husband and sons. They are standing over a hospital bed, staring down at me with fresh tears in their eyes. Chris holds my hand as my boys’ cling to his sides, sobbing into his shirt. A doctor stands nearby, hands clasped in front of him, and his head bowed.

“I’m very sorry. Please let me know when you have made your decision.” he tells him. My husband nods and sucks in a breath.

  Chris looks up at the doctor. “I can’t let her stay this way when there is no hope. Go ahead,” he says looking down at the boys, who cling to him even tighter now. “Go ahead, give mommy kisses, boys.”

I watch my sons kiss my cheek in turns. Choked whispers of, I love you, mama, escape their lips before they return to their father. The doctor walks over to the machines. He pushes several buttons and flips several switches. The doctor has a clipboard and Chris signs a paper.

“Do you want to make any calls? It won’t be long now.” His voice was low, and he patted my husband on the shoulder. “Again, I’m very sorry.”                   Chris nods as he watches my body begin to shut down. It isn't long before my chest stops rising and my heart ceases to beat.

With a snap, I am staring back at my grandfather again. Tears form in my eyes but do not drop as I look at him in dismay. Reliving my day, changing details to change the outcome of my fate had been my mind’s way of coping.

“It’s okay to be afraid, the fear will ease, soon. The peace will fill you.” His voice is kind and soothing. “You can watch over them all that you desire, we never completely leave, you know.” I looked at him confused. “Death is never the end. Just another door to open.” He presents his hand to me, and I look back at the bedroom I once had in life, knowing it was all in my mind. It wasn’t real, it hadn’t been for a while. The day it happened was weeks ago and my borrowed time is over. I had to move on, and as much as I didn’t want to, I knew it was necessary.

“Will I forget?” I ask. He smiles and shakes his head.

He pats my hand and says, “No, nothing is ever forgotten.” His features soften. I took a deep breath even though I knew it was pointless, I was no longer alive, but I still clung to old habits.

“I’m not ready to die.”

“I know. No one ever is. The knock-on death’s door is not one anyone expects or is willing to answer.” His eyes are sympathetic. “I wasn’t ready for mine either, but I had an important job waiting for me.”

I frown. “What job?”

“Guiding you through.” His smile eases my nerves, and I grab his hand and squeeze it as he continues. “Everyone is on the other side. Death is not the end, my dear. There are many different rooms in the house of our existence. You will still see your Earth family, but only through the windows.” He leans down to whisper, “And sometimes the windows get opened.” He winks.                               

   Hand in hand he leads me through the door, and I exhale for the last time.