Even When it Rains, the Sun Shines

 A bond between parent and child are very much different from mother to father. The bond between a child and its mother can happen as early as conception and the bond becomes stronger through pregnancy. For nine months the unborn child and mother share a unique relationship in which cannot begin to be fathomed by the mother counterpart, the father. As the mother carries the child the mother can feel how real the child is growing inside her. A mother can already start to see the child’s face, personality, what kind of person it will grow up to be. A father has always and will always struggle with bonding during the pregnancy and fathers are forced to wait until the child is born before the feeling of being a “father” becomes real and any real bonds could begin to forged.  

                A family with a mother, a father, and five siblings were soon to be graced with a new addition. This family had next to nothing but they lacked in finances and nice things they made up 10 fold in their closeness and love for each other. Having moved state side against the wish of the mother’s family they were met with struggles to feed, cloth, and shelter themselves. No matter how hard the struggle they all kept their spirits high and with a little help they survived and prospered.

          The little help mentioned was from God. In their darkest times and against all protests and odds they always had his support. The followed and worshiped the lord in everything they did. Their commitment never wavered and even when they had nothing they still gave what they could and trusted in the faith of their savior to get them through. Their loyalty to God was rewarded from time to time and it was as if God himself took a special interest in this family.
                God blessed the family with the gift of fertility; an already large family of five, soon to be six, children would all grow up and expand their new families sometimes adding as much as four and five children of their own. God looked over the men in this family as they shipped off to Europe and back to the homeland to fight and defend in the second great war; all coming back safe and sound. He blessed all of this family with the appreciate and ear for song and music; in which they used to help spread the word of god and to show their thanks and appreciation. The lord loves music, so much so that as this family would receive their new addition, God would bless them with one more gift and will give this newborn an amazing ability for music.
          Fast forward and where my tale will begin, that new born with the God given talent would one day become a colleague and my best friend and would know my darkest secret. Celebrating the end of the first semester of the school year we sat and talked over drinks in a local pub. We would exchange stories of the first semester, papers that we graded, the cute blond that sat in the front row of each of our classes. As the night stretched on out talks would evolve into philosophy, theory and debate. After getting into a fight and arguing over difference of opinion this friend of mine would stare out the window across the street and become entranced by the different colored lights that decorated the homes and business and a tear rolled down his cheek as he had heard nearby carolers.        
                Our talk quickly turned to me just listening as for the many years I’ve known him he rarely spoke about his past or even his family. I was aware of current wife and kids but never had we talked about our pasts. He started at the beginning speaking of his childhood as a music prodigy and how in the beginning he loved the music and tells stories and images of the smile on his mother’s face when he played. On top of the God given talent he was fairly smart too and he explained how he just breezed through school. What seemed like a perfect childhood and start to his life he began to open up about the darkness, the demons, the stress to live up to the limitless potential he had with his gift. He told me about outside of his mother’s smile he had a wasted youth.
               The pressure grew on him as he would start to feel that he was asked to live up to a something, to be someone he didn’t know how to be. With school flying by he was fortunate enough to have a free ride with scholarships to a dozen schools.  Feeling the pressure and hating who he was asked to be I had chosen a school as far away as he could from family and what he had hoped would be far enough from God, he moved to Alaska. There and away from the demands to achieve greatness he was able to get lost on the slow and abandon everything he knew. He indulged in his new freedoms as he discovered things that he should have already known beer, pot, and women. He tells countless stories of parties and women, drunken stupors and blackouts, cut classes and something he never experienced before…failure.
                He never felt more alive and freer as when he was failing. He was brilliant and knew better but he didn’t care. He would eventually finish school, but barely and the rest of his life was ahead of him. Feeling free and almost childlike he swore that he would do things on his terms and that he would live up to no one’s potential than the one he set for himself. Basking in failure he would spend the next chunk of his life doing what he wanted with little to know regard to his life and those around him. He would join the military but that was short lived when expectations were set and feeling the pressure as he had as child sabotaged what was to be a promising career in the military. He found love but on several occasions. With each love and the gift that god had given his family of fertility he would bear children; but what bigger pressure than that of supporting a family.
                He ran from anything that threatened to tie him down or would ask anything form him. He would bear several children and would walk away from all of them. It would only be with his current wife that he would stay and help raise a family. I couldn’t help but feel that although he was with a wife with three children that he still felt the pressure. He would admit a lot of things that night but why he stayed, he never said. I do not doubt that he loved all of his kids but having been a failure for so long and afraid to commit and grow up he just didn’t know how to love someone.
                He discussed a lot of regret in his life and dwelled on all the disappointment that he knows he put on his family. He talks about how he wants to be a better person but that it scared him to no end and that he didn’t know how too. He would over the years try to amend some of his past and reconnect with his greatest failure… his kids. He never watched most of them grow up as he neglected any parental responsibility and with his current family he would constantly work to avoid being there to raise them. But when he got the nerve to try, he one by one reached out to his kids to try and be a father. He hoped that once they were grown up that they would have understanding and forgiveness in their heart and character to let him back in.
                Children are simple but very complex people. Children remember everything but a child without a father will always yearn for a father and any glimpse of them getting that at any age they submit and welcome the one thing that voided their life and are willing to fill the holes of a lost childhood. This would prove true to almost all of his kids as one by one they embraced that he was trying and that he wanted to undo the wrongs of his past. Slowly he found validation as a father and began to realize that the pressures weren’t so bad. But as I said that was the case with most his children, there was one that he couldn’t reach.
                As the night had turned to day we sat together the whole night. I could tell that he was fighting back tears as his face and eyes were swollen but dry. He noticed the time and he thought that it would be best to head home to the wife. As we gathered out things he says thank you, at which time I respond with a gentle nod and smile. Life getting too real he starts with a few jokes and comments to liven up the situation and to end the nights talk on a high note. As he reaches for the door to leave the little pub the cold winter air hit his face. But instead of a chill he began sweating. His moment slows until he is a few feet outside the door and he drops to his knees. I looked at him as he falls to his back, panic and fear fills his eyes. He gulches his chest as he stares at me from the ground, gasping for air he whispers for help. Then just before his eyes closed there was a look of confusion as he stared at me’ friends for years and the look he gave was as if I was a stranger.
                I would spend the next several hours sitting in a chair thinking back and remembering the stories he just heard. Thinking about the journey his friend had taken to reconnect with his kids, to build and get back the family that he once abandoned. I couldn’t stop thinking about how he was able to achieve all he had with this kids, but worried that he wasn’t able to reach the one child that he named at himself. Why wasn’t he able to reconnect with that one son? Started to worry that through everything he still fails; what if I fail in my quest to get my family back? As I pondered that thought for a while I noticed movement. “Welcome back to the living,” I greeted as I walk over to the hospital bed and held the hand of my friend.  Tired and weak he could barely talk. I tell him to sleep. Knowing he was going to be ok and waiting until he was asleep I left, I needed answers.

              

I went out in search for his son, the one that he couldn’t reconnect with. As I found him a few miles away my first though was how close they are to each other, distance wise; more confusion. When I arrived I stayed phased out and just watched. I got there just as he received the call that his father was in the hospital from a heart attack. He thanked his sister for the update and ended the call a little fast. Burt more shocking was what he did next; he continued to get ready, made another call to friends and said that he was on his way to pick her up for work. Why was he not going to the hospital? This didn’t make sense to me. In my current line of work I have seen hundreds of reactions but normally all is forgiven for a brief moment and normally the loved ones rush to the side of their family. I needed to understand, so I looked into his past and soul.

                When I looked deeper inside him I noticed nothing unusual. There were memories of car trips to visit the grandparents, bowling together, casino, dinners together. I don’t understand. Then I notice something, something that filled his head, it was a memory as a kid. I watched as he replayed the memory in is head as he drove to get a friend. The man was just a boy, maybe nine or ten, but the boy was all smiles and laughter as he was running home, I assumed from school. He gets home and rushes to get a plastic bag and fills it with clothes. The phone rings, it’s a friend, “No, I can’t do anything this weekend. Yeah, going to dad’s this weekend.” The boy runs to the window and stares out it looking and listening. Every car that drove by his heart would jump. This went on for hours until the sunset. He sat there for hours never giving up.
                As I look deeper and deeper into him I see no resentment or hatred. I see happiness for the times that they did have together and a bond that seems different than the other kids. There is a hint of disappointment when it comes to his son, my friend’s grandson, in that they have only met but a handful of times and he’s three. But still there is forgiveness and understanding. He has never said anything or thought to confront his father about this. He just let it be and would never say a work about how he felt waiting for his father to arrive. I’m confused, kids really are complex.  
                I returned to the bedside of my friend and sat with him as he rested. I phased out as I watched some of his family come and see him. All day there were visitors bringing him gifts and cards, and best wishes that he recover quickly. For a man that has done so much wrong to his family and considered himself a failure he sure did have a lot of people that loved him. I sat with him all day and into the night. He tossed and turned for hours, eventually he wakes up. He looked at me and with the same confused, his head searched for answers. As I head he was a brilliant man and finally after a minute or so he figured it out and asks, “Why hasn’t anyone noticed you sitting there all day? And why do you have a wing?”

                Shocked and more confused that he was almost started to panic, thinking of anything that could sound feasible, anything to answer his question. “Are you my guardian angel or something,” he said with some sarcasm. I looked at him and we share a look that was quickly interrupted with laughter. I still don’t know all the details or have all the reasons to why he was able to see me phases out or my wing, really the only thing we came up with was that it had to do something with him dying or maybe he did die for a moment. We didn’t get to think about it too much as he was intrigued and wanted answers. As he had the night before and kept me enthralled in deep conversation and stroll down memory lane, I had returned the favor and told him everything. I had told him of what past I can remember, the deal with the devil that I had made, and about the lives that I have taken.

                As the sun began to rise the next morning, light fought through the clouds outside and into the window. Almost speechless my friend laid there trying to process everything that I had told him. He couldn’t help but see the similarities in my quest and the quest that he had to get his families back. Then he looked at me, searching for the right words or maybe the courage to say the words that he had been thinking for some time now. “I’m not going to make it out of here,” he said as he watches the clouds start to strangle what little light that shined through. Confused, the doctors said that he would be fine and out in a few days. He continued, “I’m tired, I’m tired of everything and just want to sleep. I want to help you.” I tried to stop him, stop him from continuing the thought but he snapped at me, “PLEASE LISTEN TO ME,” shocked at the first time I had even heard that tone I stop. His words become a whisper, “I wasted a gift from God and wasted this life. I have done nothing but run for as long as I can remember. I have been a constant disappointment and have helped no one in my life. Get me a pen and paper, I want to help you.”

                I tried to talk him out of it but there was no changing his mind. He was surprisingly strong about this, bordering on stubborn, and noticed that it took all he had not to become emotional about it. I sat there quietly, as I watched him write I began to struggle with the reality of everything, how is it I can let him do this, there is so much life left and he is loved. He finishes writing, folds it and hands it to me. “I just want to see all my family one more time,” pauses for a moment, take a deep breath, “and know that my son, the one you visited loves me and forgives me… that he will be a better father than I was.” Trying to keep myself together I resist saying what I had found out when I visited his son. I read the paper and it was done. I sat with him and held his hand as his eyes closed as if to sleep. Evident by the lack of response from all the noise from the machines he was hooked up too and the hustle and bustle of nurses and doctors that ran in and out in a panic.

                Having sat with my friend until he was stable and surviving on machines alone I never let go of his hand as I stayed phased out watching all of his family return.  This time they would not return with wishes of speedy recovery or getting well soon. This time they returned to say their good-byes. For two days I watched him hold on as more and more family filled his room and the waiting room right outside, some flying in from all over the country. It was as if everyone in his family had come to see him, but noticed that someone still hasn’t arrived.

                As the second day of his coma ended and the sun starts to rise on the third day, in the distance just a few miles away is a man driving, driving with a mission, it was his son. On the seat next time him his phone rings and vibrates like crazy. Flooded with call from his mom and sister he already knew what they wanted. His phone sits lit up, on its screen a text message could be read from mom that reads, “I don’t know where you are, but you need to come see your dad. The doctors don’t give him much time. Please call, love you.” Driving more as fast as he can he swerves in and out of traffic, a destination that he needs to get too. Almost hitting an old lady he searches for a parking space, parks all crocked, and run to the door. He knocks.

                My friends head is on its side as if too look out the window. The clouds outside begin to dissipate as the sun rises. For the first time in days the room fills with light, with warmth. I can’t help but think that he been looking out the window for two days awaiting the last arrival before his journey ends. 

                Again there is a knock, the son anxious to see his face, to run up and hug him. His heart races waiting for the door to open.              

                I whispered to my friend, “I look forward to continuing our talks when I see you  at the park.” I noticed a tear fall from his face, still looking out the window as the sun covers his face, “I’m sorry.”

                As the door opened he was created by a tiny voice, “PAPA, What are you doing here?” A son who hasn’t seen his father in two years smiles as he grabs his little man and throws him up in the air and catches him with the biggest hug, “I missed you and wanted to see you, is that ok with you,” as he smiled. “You are silly papa. But this is a good surprise.” The three year old hugs his mother and tells her that papa was there and that they are going for a walk. As the little man run back to his dad, a gentle breeze moves through them and fills his heart with a happy pain, and a feeling it’s over. His eye’s swell up and his eyes begin to water, “what’s wrong papa.” He reaches for his son and hugs him tight, “I will always be here for you. And nothing is wrong, just looks like it’s going to rain.”

                “It’s not going to rain, its sunny out. Silly papa.”

 

Forced to Walk the Unwanted Path

(Flashback: Continuation of contract signing)

“… there was nothing I could do or say to please him and in a fit of rage from feeling abandoned and betrayed he had banished me to Earth.”

Quiet for a moment, Lucifer quickly changes the topic, “Enough about that. Let’s talk about why you are here. As the contract you sign stated, you would get both your wife and daughter back with the agreement that you would work for me and a general idea of what the job entailed. Well it’s time now for you to get to work. Before I get to the details of the day-to-day tasks you are asked to perform I feel obligated to explain first what it will mean to have no soul. Until the quota of 1,000 souls is collected I own your identity. As you travel and interact with people, no one with recognize you from your past and few will remember you moments after you meet them. Also, with your soul comes all of your memories of your past life. You will not remember dates, names, and even faces of people from your past… including your wife and daughter. Once all your memories and identity have been stripped from you, you are left with vague images and a constant but fuzzy recollection of events but no details. What that means is every day you will remember you had a wife and daughter and that they died twice. You will be haunted with imagery of the car accident and also the brutal defiling and murder of your wife.”

I stood speechless; everything he’s saying is almost too much to handle. Having just watched the unthinkable happen to my wife and with all the things Lucifer is saying I grow wary and begin to question my decision. I begin an epic struggle with myself and the justification of the selfishness to take a life for my own personal gain. A gain that is no longer appealing or wanted; I accepted the original idea and still believe it worth it had I gotten a chance to touch and kiss my wife and daughter again. But Lucifer, the devil, is a cheating, conniving, evil little man who gets off on others pain and suffering.

“Hey, no spacing out, you need to know this stuff. I will not repeat myself and there is no training manual for this. So are you paying attention?” Lucifer yelled as he caught the wandering, thought filled eyes of his newest employee.

                                                                                                ***

The daughter was as cute as could be. Her bond with her mother was like anything I had ever seen. She had but two passions in her short life before she was consumed with the thrills of school. First passion was that of being her mother. The little girl spent the first five years of her existence with her mother. She watched as her mother worked around the house and took care of her family with grace and a confidence that would become contagious. The daughter took pride in doing anything and everything mom did. She was like a little clone that cooked when mom cooked, cleaned when mom cleaned; all of her toys were props to mimic the taller, adult version of her, all the way down to the kitchen play set, the pretend steering wheel, and even the old deactivated cell phone from two years prior. Once school started she would even sit with mommy at the kitchen table and together they did their essay homework and practiced writing their alphabet.

The daughter had another passion that filled not only her heart but her room. This little girl loved anything and everything about elephants.  The walls in her room were lined with a zoo like theme wallpaper. The shelves, sheets, bed spread, and every sticker that covered everything else clearly showed which animal was her favorite. Shelves on three of the four walls were stacked two and three high each filled with stuffed animals, snow globes, and what could have easily been a hundred other do-dahs, were all of elephants. This little girl’s bed sheets and blanket were also riddled with images of elephants. I’m confident that she had even dreamt every night of them.

So one could only imagine the excitement that filled this little girl when she was surprised with the plans of going to the circus. I was sitting in her room when her father came in after work and told about his new promotion. He explained how he would be home more and that he was given the opportunity to take some time off and take the family on a trip. Her face lite up as she jumped into her father’s arms, ecstatic at the news that daddy will be home more. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she hugged him and tightly squeezed. A tear fell from the cheek of her father as he is overwhelmed with emotion at the happiness he has given is daughter. Embracing the hug he took a minute to fully enjoy the purity of her happiness before he told her about the upcoming family trips.     

                Feeling her grip loosen he pulled her away from him and looked right into her eyes and began speaking about the few ideas thrown around for their upcoming family vacation. She listened intently as her smile grew and shrank ranging from ear-to-ear excited smiles when she liked to fake smiles when she wasn’t so enthused about one of the suggestions. Her father continued tossing out ideas and thoughts until his daughters face lit up and the biggest smile I’ve ever seen covered her face when her father tried to roll through the idea about the circus. Hearing that the circus was an option she busted at the seams with excitement and latched herself again to her father’s neck. Struggling to talk he gives details of when they are going and adds a surprise that causes her to squeeze even tighter and accompanied with a high pitched scream, he tells her how he has arranged for her to actually ride an elephant.

                                                                                ***

(Flashback: Continuation)

After I was yelled at to pay attention, Lucifer continued, “Now you can’t go all willy-nilly killing people. You will have powers but they are limited to only target someone that writes down something they truly want. It’s like a contract signing, in which you are fulfilling their wishes in return for their life. Now what this means is I have bestowed in you the power to manipulate fate.”

                Intrigued at hearing this he has successfully grabbed all of my attention. I listened intently as he explains exactly how to manipulate someone’s fate. “That seems easy enough,” as I’m thinking of all the loopholes I’m about to exploit. Visions of me being a super hero fill my head as I could use this power to target bad people and better the world. Ideas surge with the thoughts of airplanes filled with bad, evil people suddenly crashing killing hundreds, or building that shields terrorist’s collapses claiming the lives of everyone inside. It would seem that there is a silver lining with this cursed new job and shouldn’t take long to claim the 1,000 souls I need.

                “Now don’t go having any illusions of grandeur,” Lucifer stated. “Choosing which fate’s to manipulate isn’t as easy as you and straight forward as you might think” Worry is beginning to blanket me as I continue to listen, “You are tasked with one thing in mind… to create sorrow. You need to choose people that will evoke sadness and a feeling of lose. This means no criminals, no thugs. No one spills tears for scum. Also there is no collateral damage permitted; only the soul that creates the contract can be collected. Also I can at any time choose a soul for you to take, I have carte blanch, no questions asked.”

                “What the hell do you mean? What does it matter who’s soul is collected or where it came from? A soul is a soul and shouldn’t matter,” I said pleadingly.

                “You would be wise not to question me, there is more at work here than you know or could even comprehend. Also, I don’t have to answer shit or justify anything to you. I did not force you into this, if you recall originally it was you seeking my assistance. These are the rules and the faster you understand that the better off all of this will be for you,” he said with a frustrated tone.

                Fully realizing the situation I’m in, I feel sadness comes over me as I quickly begin to comprehend exactly what it is he is asking me to do. What have I done? How can I possibly fulfill this task? Who am I to say my soul, my memories is worth all of this or more than someone else’s soul.”

                I feel sick to my stomach and can’t seem to concentrate. But I need to focus; this is not the time or place to contemplate the moral ethics of this. I signed the contract and right now as much as I don’t like it, I’m fucked. Drawing my attention back to Lucifer I listen carefully as he continues to explain the rules. He also tells me about another power I have called Psyhops. It’s the ability to touch something or someone and instantaneously see and know their entire history. He explains that I will use this power to fully understand my target better so that I can manipulate their fate specific to them.

                It seems as if hours have passed and he is still taking in great detail of my powers and how I should use them to my benefit. “Do you understand all your powers and what I’m asking from you?” Lucifer asked. Seeing me nod with understanding he adds one last thing, “you are not dead nor living, you exist to both realms. You are given the ability to choose to be seen by the living or you can “phase out” and wander amongst the living without being seen. Now you should know you aren’t the only Soul Collector working for me. The last thing I will leave you with…” He waves his hand around and touches me on my back.  I feel a tight pressure building in my back where his hand is and slowly I can feel something growing. “…is this single black angel wing. It’s a symbol of your status and a constant reminder of your debt to me. No one on the living realm will see or notice the wing, but those roaming between the two worlds can see it. When they see you they will all know that you are a One-Winged Angel, an angel of death, the counterpart to the more traditional and true white-winged angel that serves god.”   

                                                                                ***

I sat in the corner of her dark room and watched my next claim sleeping. Peaceful in her sleep I knew what was going to happen to her in the coming day and hated everything about me for what I was tasked to do. I tortured myself trying to think of a way to ok with what I was about to do. She was in school, her family received great news of a new job, and a new life was beginning to come together. Feeling a full fledge panic attack and complete metal breakdown coming I was suddenly visited by Lucifer. He looked at and I knew what he was going to say without him saying it, “It’s hard but you have to do it.” I returned a scared and worried look and began to beg, plead for him to change his mind and to let this collection go. But before I could say anything he vanished.

I heard a car door close and the mother beginning to drive away. Noticing the husband waving good-bye I knew it was time. Feeling responsible for what was soon to happen I phased myself into the back seat of the car and sat there offering what little comfort I could. Within a few minutes, I whisper a quiet apology and good-bye as I hung my head down in sorrow, shame and tightly closing my eyes. While bracing myself a single tear ran down my cheek and reflected the lights of an oncoming truck.

After the car accident I returned to my park, I sat here on the bench staring at the wing that I had. I couldn’t help but think about how much of a monster I was; the things that I was now asked to do as a job, the lives that I devastate, that’s something only a monster could do. After that car accident as I sat on the bench I laid my lead down in my hands. All I could do was think back to sitting in dark room the night before watching her sleep so peacefully. Then there was a different night I remembered. Thinking about this night caused tears to flow from my face as I began to sob wildly. It was the night mom was finishing her final paper for my class, the final paper that would ultimately seal her demise. But that same night the sweet little girl in her normal, adorable fashion and infinity to copy mom had also wrote a final paper that she conveniently placed in with mommy’s papers; the papers that would be turned in the next day. 

                Unable to control my sobs my hands quickly filled with tears, my nose ran all over, I began to shake and would occasionally a weeping bellow would escape. Falling apart and unsure I could continue with my new job I was interrupted with a tap on the shoulder. Lifting my head I wiped my nose on one of my sleeves and tried to clear the tears with the other sleeve. Slowly gaining my focus through the remaining tears I notice her. Standing in front of me stood the cute little girl, fascinated with elephants. Looking into her face I try not to break down even further when she whispers, “Don’t cry, everything will be ok,” and extends her arms and produces a stuffed-animal elephant. I grabbed the stuffed-animal and lost it; I gripped it tight and hard and began crying even harder. The little girl then stood on top of the bench next to me and wrapped her arms around me as tight as she could and we sat there in silence until the sun rose.

                                                                                                ***        

Lucifer stands in the distance watching the exchange with his Soul Collector and the little girl and remains stone faced. Slowly he turns and begins to walk away. As he is walking away a presence appears and accompanies Lucifer on his walk.

Without slowing down or turning his head he extends a greeting, “Nature, it’s good to see you. What do owe the honor?”

“I couldn’t help but notice your new employee, something different about that one,” said Nature. She continues, “So why haven’t you told him the truth about the realities of your situation with god or the true purpose of Soul Collectors and how they are actually saving man?”

Still never turning his head and continuing to walk he responds, “He’s not ready to know the truth, he’s not strong enough yet to handle.”

The two continued their conversation as they continued walking towards the horizon of the morning sunrise until they slowly phased out and vanished.