This is the first chapter of a novel that I just completed. I wrote this based on a real life near death experience that I had in 2003. I included it here because I feel it is self contained enough to stand on its own, as well as it does within my novel. Any comments or suggestions are more than welcome.

October of 2002

Blessed are they who mourn: for they shall be comforted.
Matthew 5:4


If such a wound hath touched you, be sure a similar wound hath touched the others. Such days of varying fortunes we give to men and men by turns: that Allah may know those who believe and that he may take to himself from your ranks martyr-witnesses. And Allah loveth not those who do wrong.
Surah three Ayat 140


You'll not be in Heaven if you're not leaning on the arm of someone you have helped.
-Edgar Cayce





Pain tore into Paula Moore's body, her face contorted with agony as the contractions got progressively stronger. She lay on her back on an operating table, her feet propped up in strips. Tears streamed down her cheeks, as she thrashed her head against a paper, thin, pillow. Another contraction followed directly on the heels of the first, she felt as though a steel band was holding her pinned to the table. It held her immobile, there under the brilliant surgical lights. Her head hurt badly; a pain so viscous that Paula was blinded from the intensity of it. She jerked her head aside to avoid Her Lover's touch. As gentle as his hands were; it hurt too much to allow him to touch it.

'Her head hurts really badly because high blood pressure causes severe pain. You should probably try touching her shoulder, or holding her hand instead.'� A nurse advised him with absent-minded kindness, as she checked Paula's I.V.

Paula turned her head a little; to gaze at the still monitor that was supposed to be recording Berry's heart beat. There wasn't so much as a beep to indicate that he had a heart beat. The lack of motion on its screen, told Paula, that her baby was gone. She reached out to her Life's Partner; a man named Jamie Palmer, and clung to his hand with surprising strength, given the fact that her blood pressure was so elevated that the doctors gave no hope for her chances.

'If she survived at all she would be a vegetable from strokes.' Was all the doctors would tell both Jamie and Paula's mother. Her eyes were wide and glassy from Demerol, given to ease her agony. Even under the calming influence of the powerful painkiller, Paula realized that the baby she had hoped to hold in her arms, feed, and love had died. Silent tears streamed down her checks.

Doctors and nurses rushed around with grave expressions, setting up intravenous lines to replace the platelet's that preeclampsia; left undiagnosed by her obstetrician; had destroyed. The odd orange stuff she had been coughing up for nearly a week had been made up of her red blood cells. The malady had destroyed most of her blood volume; then finally, last but not least, it had taken her son, away from her as well.

Without a word Paula turned to gaze into her lover's eyes, which were so full of tears, that it was impossible to see their chocolate color. He knew deep inside that when she lay gazing into his eyes, before squeezing his hand; she was saying goodbye. There was nothing he could do for her. No way for him to ease her physical or emotional pain. She struggled to lift her head. She wanted to see her mother. Paula's mother stepped closer to stand at Jamie's side. She reached over her daughter to lay both her hands gently over Paula's other hand. The older woman gazed into her daughter's face. 'I love you.'� She whispered. When the young woman on the table let her eyes drift shut, her mother felt that she wouldn't open them again on Earth

After her farewells had been communicated Paula allowed the Demerol to flow over her senses. Darkness closed in surround her with a velvety softness. There was no fear in her heart. Soon if God really was as merciful as her mother claimed; she would be with her children. In Heaven, or in oblivion, it made no difference at all to her; which one it would turn out to be. Either option seemed better than the life she was leaving behind.

A brilliant, lemon yellow light pierced the darkness. Her curiosity, the most predominant characteristic in her personality, drew her to it like it was a magnet. One moment she was still light years away from it, the next she stood, at; what she assumed; were its feet. It was far and away, the largest thing she had ever seen.

'Oh my God, I've screwed up this time.'� Was the first thought Paula was aware that she had. In response she felt, rather than heard the light's soft, wry laughter. The sound indicated a healthy sense of humor.

There was nothing either angry, or vengeful about this majestic presence. No condemnation for the way she had used, and at times; abused his precious gift of life. Paula soaked up the beings laughter, and its free flowing love; like a sponge. She was amazed by the strength of the love that this being held for her. Paula knew deep, down that her numerous transgressions rendered her unworthy to stand in this presence. After all she had abused drugs both before, as well as after her pregnancies. She was an adulteress, living in sin, with a man who was still married. All of her pregnancies occurred outside of marriage.

'Forgive me?'� Her plea was met with unconditional acceptance. Complete forgiveness flowed outward to wash over her; mixed with his love and laughter. Though she automatically thought of the light as a 'He', she had no real feeling of gender from this beautiful, pure, being of light. Spared the much feared fate of damnation, her anxiety faded away, all at once. This light; whatever it might turn out to be; did not want to rule mankind, through fear, this majestic entity was pure love. She raised her chin, and gazed at her surroundings.

Wonder filled her at the sight of two angels, who flew in graceful arcs, near the top of this light. They were far above her head and all she could see were their silhouette. These were slender, graceful creatures, which had neither the flowing robes, nor the swanlike wings that artists depicted angels as having. Instead, they had a double set of smooth wings, which resembled a dragonfly's. At an apparent command, one of them, landed at Paula's side. In close proximity the angel was breath taking.

As she genuflected to show her respect to the ruler of creation; the top set of her iridescent wings, concealed her face; while the other gracefully covered her feet. She was much taller than Paula, with a slender, small boned figure that wore a robe after all. Made of shear silken material, the garment shimmered with opalescence in the light. It was all colors, and none of them, at the same time. Paula saw colors that she could not name, because they did not even exist on the plane she had left behind her. A thick mane of fiery auburn hair framed the angel's face. Her wide, almond shaped, eyes did not once leave the light. She tipped her head, as she listened to instructions; which Paula was not allowed to overhear. At last the angel bowed her head in acknowledgment and then her sparkling gaze fastened on Paula's face.

'What have you to show us?'� Her voice was as beautiful as the rest of her. Within its tones were the sounds of wind chimes tinkling in the breeze. It was soft and melodious, peaceful and soft as a lover's whisper. The angel gave Paula no name to call her, an omission that seemed deliberate; made because her name was unimportant. One slim, graceful hand made a faint gesture swept Paula through time; she was returned to the very beginning of her life. Scenes from the life she had left behind her flickered to life in the air between the human soul, and her companion. There in front of her she saw a silver haired toddler, peering across the living room, with open curiosity at two blanket wrapped bundles, which made a huge amount of noise. There was a flicker of blinding white, followed by two scenes in close sequence.

The first involved a boy in her first grade class, whose name had been Jerome. He was a young, African American that she had made a trade with. She had given him a toy race car in exchange for a pencil, and then the next day, after listening to her best friend's bigoted and hate filled comments on the matter, she had taken the car back. Hurt had filled the youngster's, and caused his dark eyes to brim with tears, but he hadn't said a word. Even at the age of six, he had already had encounters with the type of attitude that the girl was showing him, one more time. It was neither new, nor all that unusual.

When she saw the pain her careless action had caused him, Paula's eyes overflowed with tears of regret. The pain she had caused him with that single careless action was crystal clear. She could not deceive herself about her motives, which consisted of pure selfishness. They had been entirely self-serving. She had not spared Jerome a thought, or given his feelings any consideration. She reached out in an effort to brush away the tears on his checks, but her hand only met empty space. It was far too late to change these events.

'I'm so sorry. . .'� She cried as Jerome bowed his head and walked away. The angel gave her shoulder a compassionate squeeze.

'Look,'� Her voice was soft, with no condemnation. At a gesture from her hand a new scene began to form. The boy had become a man. He was working with a group of children. Paula realized after a few moments that he was talking to them about the how forgiveness; that when it was given freely could free them emotionally. He patiently answered their questions. It was unclear if he was teaching Sunday School, or working at a youth center. Wherever it was; the place was irrelevant. All that mattered was that a little girl listened. He had succeeded in reaching her. Paula saw the understanding, as it flamed to life in her gaze; after she absorbed the concept he was teaching.

'You helped teach him the need for forgiveness and the power it has to heal. Now he helps troubled children., Jerome has become a family therapist who works with victims of abuse.'�

The angel gestured where a new event from Paula's life was materializing. She stood leaning against the shoulder of a boy a few years older than her six years of age. What had just happened to her? Paula's expression was both frightened and confused. Her pretty, new outfit was rumpled and dusty. She did not understand what sex was, or why what he had done to her made him cry. Didn't he realize that she loved him? That everything was okay? The boy, whose name was Jason, had been her self appointed guardian he protected her from the other children, but there was no one to protect her from him Most of her classmates liked nothing better than to hit or push her; because she was much smaller than other children her own age. After he began staying near her that had stopped, but the price it exacted from Paula was high. It was paid in guilt and shame.

More scenes followed, with the two of them taken from random moments of the three years which followed that afternoon. Pictures of stolen moments, when she had been held close by him, loved him with all her might. Jason Collins was both her first school yard crush and her first lover as well. That was how Paula remembered him; she could never bring herself to condemn his actions. He had been no more than a child himself. Here, while she watched as a third party, she was able to read his tormented thoughts. His despair was all too apparent to her. 'Didn't he understand how much I loved him?'� Paula's voice was almost too low too hear; even in the stillness of eternity. 'That I never was angry? I never thought he hurt me. I love him to this day.'�

'He was your teacher, the first of many. He taught you the same lesson that you taught Jerome.'� This time there was no follow up, this troubled boy, whom she had loved so much and had forgiven freely for the sake of that love; had not ever forgiven himself. She stared at her companion as she wondered how her friend was doing. 'He's better now.'� The angel said. 'Because of him you learned your first and strongest lesson in forgiveness, in compassion, and in unconditional love.'�

A flash of white wiped away the image of eight year old Paula and the fourteen-year-old boy. In quicker succession her life flickered briefly. The next detailed incident that was slowed for a detailed examination was more positive in nature. In it Paula was now twenty-one.

A young man, held her tightly as she sobbed her pain out against his shoulder. His sweet natured face was as familiar to her as her own. His name was Jonathan, but everyone had called him Country. For nearly a year he had been there whenever she needed him. The love in his eyes and the tenderness with which he treated the broken hearted girl was something she had never experienced before him. Country's lack of judgment was matched only by his shyness. He had loved her in silence. That love had been so strong that it had given him the strength to hold her while she cried over the loss of a child which had not been his. He had felt her agony and done the best he knew how to ease it. Now Paula could see what it cost him to do so. She saw that he paid the price without compliant because, in moments like these she needed him. In moments like these he could believe for a few minutes that she was his, and that she loved him too.

Jonathan had never dared to approach her in a romantic way until it was too late, assuming that because he wasn't really a good looking man, that Paula was so shallow, she would not be interested in him, when it wasn't the reason for her lack of attention at all. The true reason she had never seen his love for what it actually had been, was his silence. She had assumed that since he never spoke; that Jonathan had felt no more than friendship for her.

The months spent talking to the mild, good natured, country boy was relived by Paula. She could see now, from this new perspective, how he had hoped that his gestures, and his attention, would say what a tongue, silenced by shyness couldn't. On their final day together, he finally mustered up enough courage to speak his mind.

'Why wouldn't you ever go out with me?'� Jonathan asked as he stared down into her eyes, 'Was it because I'm not as good looking as the other guys? I would have treated you like a princess.'�

The girl's eyes had widened in shock. Then she had given him the most honest answer that she knew how. 'No,'� Paula said. 'You look fine Country Boy. I never knew that you thought about me that way. Why didn't you say something?'� They had stayed close to each other for the rest of the afternoon. Together Jonathan and Paula had wandered into the woods holding hands. There in the stillness they had shared a few kisses and would have shared much more, but the two of them had been interrupted by the arrival of a group of noisy kids carrying fishing poles.

Less than a week later Paula had left the school, there had been no time to spend with this man, but she had never forgotten him. He taught her to try and listen to what people couldn't say out loud. Country had showed Paula how to read between the lines, and his love provided her with a glimpse of her own self worth. Jonathan had left many valuable lessons behind him on the importance of not allowing fear to rule her emotions.

No explanation was needed for the next few scenes. These showed her some things; which she had done as they should have been done. These had been the opportunities for her to put what she learned from Jonathan into actual practice. Sometimes she saw the chance to do so; sometimes she did not. Paula caught a glimpse of herself holding, Amy, a friend; whose son; a toddler named Bobby, had passed away a few days earlier. When she came to visit Paula the afternoon of his funeral, the women had cried together over the loss of their sons. Paula had said what she could to her friend, knowing from bitter experience that it wasn't enough. They had spent the afternoon reminiscing about their departed children.

In the next, Paula saw herself as she dropped the phone receiver from numb fingers. Her dazed voice cried for Jamie. 'Jimmy's dead.'� Was all she managed to say as scalding tears fell down her cheeks.

At the time she hadn't noticed his twelve year old son, Patrick as he sat on the sofa unnoticed by either adult with tears streaking his face, as he twisted his hat in his hands. Now however she saw each tear that fell, as he cried alone, over his half brother. She saw the anger against God that burned in his eyes; saw the desperation in his gaze as he stared at his father and the woman that he considered his step mother. Now she felt his confusion and abandonment when he was disregarded, left unnoticed by Jamie and Paula in their grief. Paula bowed her head in shame as she saw the boy's mute need and the way that her blinded eyes had failed to see it. Patrick faded away to be replaced by his fourteen year old self.

He sat in a chair at the table. He was talking in a quiet tone of voice, the anger which was often the strongest trait in his personality, no where to be seen. Instead he had looked very young and confused, like the child he still was. He was trying to figure out which parent he should stay with. The choice in front of this boy wasn't an easy one, and when Patrick's eyes met hers; Paula could see the naked pain in them. She rose from the sofa and went to put her arms around him. To her surprise he allowed himself to be hugged.

There was not much she could say to him except that he should make the choice he thought was best for him and she knew it wasn't nearly enough. She stood beside him with the tears that he refused to cry dripping down her own cheeks. In these brief moments there was no animosity between them, no harsh, angry words, just the two of them talking softly after Patrick shrugged her away. She sat back down on the sofa and twisted her body so she could see him over the back of it. The sympathy in her gaze seemed to bring a small measure of comfort to her stepson; it was all she had that she could offer him, choosing between the two people who loved him most, was a decision that would have caused Solomon a sleepless night. How could a fourteen year old boy make such a decision? That night they talked for hours. The next day Patrick had returned to his mother's house in the mountains.

There was a blinding flash of light, before Paula saw herself tending to Rodan. He had been accidentally stepped on. She had lifted, the rat's small, furry, body, and carried him back to the bedroom; made him a soft nest in a shoe box, and laid it on the foot of the bed. She could see that both his hips had been dislocated, and realized her pet probably had broken ribs as well, but there was no way for her to fix these things. If she had attempted to put his hips back into place by herself with no anesthesia, pain would have either killed the poor thing, or he would have bitten through her hand. A rat has little tolerance to, or patience with pain, their instinct tells them to inflict pain in return. So she had set him gently in the bottom of a shoe box in a soft nest of rags and gave him the best care that she was capable of giving. He had healed. Rodan never walked as well, because his hips healed out of joint. The rat lived several months longer and even with that disability he was able to return to his favored pastime, terrorizing Paula and Jamie's guests.

'Why are you showing me this? He was just a rat.'� Paula was confused. The angel smiled at her lack of comprehension.

'Because of the love you showed in the care you gave him.'� She replied.

The familiar flash of clear light was followed by one last scene. In it Paula sat in a wooden rocking chair, clasped in her arms was Jimmy. Even though he was gone, the warmed blankets gave the temporary illusion of life to his tiny body. There was no telling how long she had sat rocking her baby, staring into his lifeless, grey eyes. His face still held a scowl from the pain of his brief earthly stay. Paula folded the blankets back away from Jimmy's face; he had suffered so much. She tried without success to smooth away the crease between his eyebrows and then held him tight against her breast with arms that shook uncontrollably. Her mother had silently held both her daughter and grandson. Her tears fell into her daughter's hair as she tried to give her reassurance; someone to cling to.

'Can I hold him for a minute?'� Paula's mother asked. Her voice broke at the end of the question. Her daughter surrendered the body of her baby to his grandmother, who took him and held him for a few moments. As she gazed into Paula's bleak eyes she wondered how much the younger woman could take before life broke her will to live. The lack of life in her expression spoke volumes about her state of mind to her mother; who had loved her for thirty years. Her daughter had heart, but now it had been shattered, like a piece of carelessly dropped china. Paula was beyond feeling any hope, beyond comfort, trapped inside a nightmare. She gently laid the breathless body of her grandbaby back into her oldest daughter's arms. Then she returned to sit in the other chair.

In a soft voice Paula began to sing a lullaby to her son. When she finished it she sang another. Cold seeped gradually through the blankets, destroying forever the fragile illusion that he was just sleeping. Tenderly Paula counted his fingers, and then she kissed Jimmy's forehead and gave him to the same nurse who had cared for him while he was alive. She clung to her mother, as they crossed the hospital lobby for the final time, to walk through the automatic doors. The doors hissed shut behind them and it was over. No more visits to the special care nursery to bring Jimmy his milk, no more standing beside his incubator, praying he would live to see the next morning. There was nothing left. The worst had already happened. What more could life do? There was nothing more for her to loose. The only course of action acceptable to Paula; was for her to try to deal with what had happened and continue with her life. Paula already knew that there was no help to be found in using cocaine as an escape. The grief would still be there when she was able to think again. She felt a bone deep weariness that had nothing to do with the sleep she hadn't gotten in nineteen days. No, it was her soul that was tired. How could she make a life without her son?

At this final question Paula's life review was complete. The angelic female at her side reached out to take her hand. 'You had bitter lessons to learn Sad One, but if the eyes had no tears, then the soul would have no rainbows.'�

With the angel still at her side Paula approached the light. She kept her head bowed out of respect as she approached. The love this majestic, fiery being radiated, embraced her weary soul and made her welcome. When she felt she had been given permission to raise her head, she looked up and saw a sight which took her breath away.

On the beings far side was an alpine meadow. Three boys played tag amid the flowers, tumbling over each other like playful puppies. Near by was another angel; with a newborn baby held in her arms. This nursemaid was also a female, but looked far different than Paula's companion.

Long blue-black hair flowed to the angel's hips, confined by a strip of beaded buckskin. Her complexion was dark and copper toned, with the distinctive almond shaped eyes, high cheek bones, round face and proud bearing of a Native American woman. Her wings were the more familiar feathered wings of a bird, but they were not white. They were the same, rich indigo hue as the highlights in her ebony hair. As Paula watched the three boys gathered around their nursemaid. The way they stretched out in the grass, much the same way their human counterparts would have, told their mother that she was settling them in for story time and a nap.

'Are you ready to be with your babies? You can stay here with them, if you would like.'� Her attention was snapped back to the being of light. It communicated with images rather than words and Paula realized that her angelic friend, who still stood attentively at her side, had spoken the same way; within the confines of her mind.

The promised reunion with her children was tempting. She dearly wanted to say yes, however, an image of Jamie rose to block her view of their sons. The woman realized that the light was showing her the consequence of the choice that lay ahead.

He stood at her bedside, her unresponsive hand held in his desperate grasp. The vision was so real that it captured the drops of moisture that wet his cheeks. In that moment Paula knew that she could not stay, no matter how much she wanted to. Jamie needed her there with him. He had also lost his children, her loss as well, would be more than the man she still loved; would be able to recover from. She knew she had to go back to Earth; her lover would need her now. To stay here and leave him to struggle and sink by himself would be selfish. Paula felt the warmth of the lights approval of her decision.

'Let it be so.'� His voice was like a clap of thunder. Instantly the woman's soul rejoined her traumatized body. There was a beep as the line tracing her heartbeat jumped, then settled into a rhythm. Jamie and Paula's mother stared at each other over the unconscious body on the table. His voice was hoarse, but full of joy. 'She's alive!'�

Want to comment on this Short Stories? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Short Stories and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...