The Veil

The white light of my pain surrounds me, stealing both my voice and my vision. My silence doesn’t seem to bother you, though, as you reach down and gingerly take my hand into yours. You seem to know now, as you always have, exactly what will make me feel better. Except now it is not better that I feel, not exactly. I seem to be beyond that now. Still, you know what will bring me all the comfort that my situation will allow me.

Footsteps enter the room. I note how odd it is that this blinding pain hasn’t seemed to have any impact my hearing. Voices then, whispering, yours mixed with another. Not the hushed whisper of secrecy and malice but the concerned whispering of one who does not wish to disturb the peaceful slumber of a loved one. Oh, how I wish that were so, to be in peaceful slumber now. How I wish even more that you could be Here with me. I feel you hand in mine, but that’s not the Here I mean. The flesh seems so superficial now, so transient. I wish you Here with me. Here in this space behind the veil of life, the Here that I now inhabit alone. The Here that your hushed whispering seems intent to avoid disturbing. As though it could.

And yet, as much as I wish you Here with me I know that to be a selfish wish. You must remain with the world for now, the world that I shall no longer be a part of.  The transient comfort of your flesh and your voice is all that is left of that world for me now. To have you Here with me would mean taking you across the threshold with me and that is an act I do not wish to do.  You will join me soon enough and in your own time. This is my time. Not a time of my choosing, but my time just the same.

Although I cannot make out the words, in your whispered voice I hear your pain. It is pain of a loss not yet suffered but one that is acutely anticipated. I know what loss this is, and still I would rather have you suffer it than to face the blinding light that I face. Your pain has a voice – a color and a texture – that is your own and reflects your being. My pain has no such character to break up the monotony of its being. It is without color, without form, without voice and seemingly without end. The only thing that even threatens to break in on it is that place where we touch. Flesh on flesh where the darkness of your pain and the glow of your love flicker at the edge of the white light that surrounds me. That place defines the border of my pain. Without your touch, there would be nothing.

Footsteps retreat from the room and we are again alone. Your hand has remained on mine this whole time, or at least as much of it as I am able to recall.  In silence we wait, two fragile creatures both wishing to alleviate the other’s suffering and both absolutely powerless to do so.  Were it not for the circumstances and inevitable outcome, that bit of irony might be noteworthy. Given the circumstances, however, it sits like a weight on my belly making it difficult for me to breathe.

My breathing has become more difficult this day. You have noticed it too, and have said as much to me. You still talk to me sometimes even though you’re not sure that I can hear you.  When you do, you sound awkward and pained, like a young man on his first date. I remember that tone from that first tender night we spent together so many long years ago. We were alone with an unknown future then, too, but it was a future that we looked forward to with excitement and anticipation. This time the future is unknown but also just a bit unwelcome. At least for you. I don’t begrudge you the pain in your voice. This is the first time you’ve held a death watch for someone you love. You are the one who will be left to react. You will be the one left to carry on in this world. You will be the one to be left. I will be the one leaving. Although the future is equally uncertain for us both, I have the easier task – all I have to do is let Nature take her course.

Funny that. There was a time when I would have said let Nature take her wicked course but I no longer feel this ending to be wicked. It is merely Nature. Just as a baby can only be just a baby, neither “good” nor “wicked” by virtue of having no knowledge of either, so Nature can only be what she is.  If the sun did not set, it could not rise again. Were I not dying, what is to happen next could not occur. What I do not know is what role will I play in what is to happen next. Will I be a participant or merely a spectator? Is consciousness a gift I shall know again or is the muteness I now suffer a premonition of things to come? It is this ignorance of what is to happen next that makes words like “wicked” come to mind. At least, that was once the case. In my silence and your mute touch, I find myself making peace with the unknown that lies before me.

The sun has never failed to rise after a sunset. The spring has never failed to come after a long winter. Nature has never failed to keep her promise of moving us all along and I have no reason to believe that She will fail me now. Just because I don’t know what will lie ahead in the coming season doesn’t mean I should fear or curse it. I realize that now.

While I lie here no less ignorant of the future than before, I feel peace beginning to wash over me. It is a peace I long to share with you, but the veil between us grows heavier by the minute and I lack the strength or ability to reach across it. You suffer so much under the burden of uncertainty that perhaps knowing that I have made my peace with it would ease some of your pain. You need less pain; you need your strength to keep on living.

I allow myself again to feel your hand on mine. Flowing from it, I can feel the warmth of your love and the bittersweet pain that you hold for us.  No matter how many years we have had together, at this moment it seems altogether too brief. No matter how pained the moments we pass though today, you hold on for just one more. I know we shall meet again, be together again in some form, some place beyond the veil. That does not make leaving you now any easier. 

Your breathing has become quieter now, more steady and even. Your grip on my hand has relaxed a bit and I realize that you are getting some much-needed sleep. For a moment, I allow myself to feel your energy mixing with mine. The dark brown of your pain, the amber of your love, the black of your sorrow all mix with the white pain that surrounds me and sustains me in this place.