Three Takes on Death

by Cassandra Erica, 2022

We Stray Further

Mary had the strangest recollection - a very visceral memory of dying. And yet, for whatever reason, she felt the most alive and lucid she had ever been.

But what seemed stranger still was the environment in which she found herself: she sat in one of many pews, arranged in rows extending as far as her eye could see - and that eye could see much further than it had before. How peculiar. Though no matter the quality of her eyesight, there was little light in the room to make out anything. She was seven rows back from what appeared to be a stage - a simple one, made of a similar wood to the pews and decorated only with a pipe organ and a simple podium. There was a door there, behind it. Poised for a person to come out and begin speaking.

Yet there was not a soul in the audience, nor in the pulpit. There was no sweet sound of organ music flowing from the front of this space. It was silent. Mary had never heard such silence. For it to be so quiet, she must be able to hear her heartbeat - and she couldn’t. Was this place death?

It gave her the creeps no matter what it was. She’d never been comfortable in churches, but there was at least something of beauty to behold in a church or chapel. Here, in this place, there was not so much as a single window of stained glass. Just a bright, white light peeking out from under the door. It opened.

The room was fully illuminated for a moment, by an eye-searing brightness which almost seemed to walk through the door. As soon as it had opened, it was closed again.

“Hello?” Mary cried out. “Is this… is this Hell?”

“That’s what you were expecting, I gather?” responded a deep, booming voice directly at her side. She turned to look and could see nothing, yet… she sensed a presence.

“Are you God?” Mary asked.

“Yes.” He responded.

“Where is my wife?”

God paused for a moment, as if to think of the best way to break unwelcome news. But that was only a human necessity. He must have known from the beginning what Mary would ask and how He should answer it. Was this purposeful?

“My son, as we speak he is down where there is gnashing of teeth, just as you should have been. The place you somehow thought this was.”

Mary felt sick to her stomach. This is not the all-loving God she had hoped for - he seemed irritated - offended, even. This God was just as described by the priest who had defiled her. Just as described by her abusive Catholic school teachers. Just as described by her evangelical family.

“I want to go to her.”

“Do you tell me, your loving eternal Father, that you would prefer to be tortured for all time rather than be in my presence? I apologize, but that is not an option I offer you at this time. My offer is something much better.”

The first impression Mary had of God was not positive. He reminded her of her father on Earth, a man who had called her a tranny and a faggot. He’d kicked her onto the street like a mangy dog, left to fend for herself at the young age of 15. She hadn’t wanted to tell him… but he found out. In a home with no locks, there can be no secrets. That was the last time she saw him, the last time she saw any of them.

She got the feeling there was no choice but to see where the conversation would go. “What is your offer, Lord?”

“My offer is simple. You may follow me through the door to the gates of Heaven, and be at eternal peace.”

“Who is in there? In Heaven, I mean.”

“Not so many of your recent friends, my son. I will not lie to you. But past the gates of Heaven reside your father, your mother, and your brother. They’ve missed you for so long. I thought it cruel to keep you from them, and so made a special exception.”

“I’m sorry, my Lord, but I don’t think they would like to see me. They never accepted who I am. My very existence was deemed a sin by my family. To please them, I would need to be an entirely different person.”

“Not so, my son. You must only be as I have made you.”

Mary sat with this statement for a moment. It invoked in her a visceral disgust and concern at what might happen when she passes through that door. She felt as though she could vomit - did she even have a stomach anymore? Prudently, she spoke back in metaphor.

“My Lord, I have a question.”

“Proceed.”

“Do you have wine here in Heaven?”

“Of course we do, we must; it is among the holiest of drinks. There is wine of any grape and vintage, ready at your fingertips, crafted by the angels themselves only for your enjoyment.”

“Is it not true that You created grapes but not wine so that we, too, could take part in the act of creation?”

God paused. Had she stumped him?

“My son… wine was part of my great plan from the beginning. I simply thought my presence would be too obvious if corked glass bottles grew from a vine. What you have done to yourself was never in my plan. Not your perversion of the blood, not your choice of cloth, and most certainly not your steel-altered flesh. But all of that can be forgiven. All can be redeemed. When you walk through that door to the gates of Heaven, your sinful thoughts will be washed away from you and your body will be born anew as it was designed to be.”

“God…” Mary said. “If what you say is true - if when I walk through that door, a man comes out the other side - the moment I walk through that door is the moment I will truly have died. I cannot go.”

“That is your choice, my son.” Though Mary could not see Him, she was certain He had gotten up from the pew. “Free Will hath brought you here, and Free Will shall keep you here in turn.”

He was gone. The door opened again and closed just as quickly, slammed by a disappointed God. It was darker now, the door’s light barely visible. Mary looked down to the floor and wept.

From God’s Light

Mary gently awoke in the most calming bath she had ever felt. It was as though the smooth, milky warmth surrounding her could wash away every trauma on her soul. Had she died? Was this the afterlife?

Up above her was the most calming shade of gray she had ever seen, puffed up in the air like a luxuriously soft cloud which she felt she could nearly touch. It seemed to breathe with her, subtly changing from lighter to darker. She thought to herself, “this would be lovely if it was just a bit pink” and it became so.

She was content to lay here in bliss for eternity. But her curiosity prompted her to look down. She was fully in the nude, and by some miracle her body was exactly as she had dreamed of. Gentle curves where harsh angles had been, light peach fuzz where dark, thick hairs had once grown. And, could it be?

Yes. all the feeling was back in her groin. She hadn’t been able to feel anything there since her half-rate surgeon severed nerves in the process of her vaginoplasty. This was real. No scars anymore, no stretch marks. Everything was just as it was meant to be. This was right.

She sat up and looked around. There were no distinguishing features to indicate this was a room - no corners, doors, or windows. Nor was there a sign of horizon, mountains, or oceans. There was no indication of anything she had ever associated with the indoors or outdoors, nor any way of escape - and yet, she didn’t feel trapped.

A warm, friendly voice spoke. “Welcome, my child. You have returned home.”

“Home?” she replied. “Well, then, why did I ever leave?”

The voice chuckled. “Why does a fledgeling leave its mother’s nest?”

Mary wondered. “Are you God?”

“In a way, I think, yes. You may call me that, if you like. I’m not too picky.”

“God, where is my wife?”

“Do not be concerned, my child. She is safe here with all of us. Would you like me to bring her here?”

“No, no, not yet. I haven’t seen her since she passed away seven years ago. I feel like I should put something on…”

God giggled. “I assure you, my child - your Earthly ways of modesty are unnecessary here. But you may dress as you like.”

“I have some questions for you first, anyway. If that’s alright?”

“Of course, Mary. Proceed.”

“Well, ever since I was a little girl, I was frightened of you. I don’t think I feel that here and now - and I don’t mean to offend - but the teachers at Catholic school made you seem… nasty.”

“I’m sorry you had to hear any of that.” God sighed. “Truthfully, those humans all have a strange idea of my desires and intentions. I assume you’ve read some of the Bible?”

“I have. Most of it, anyway. It’s what turned me agnostic.”

“And I’m glad to hear it. It saddens me to see how monstrously I’m portrayed in that book. It’s frightened so many to the point of wasting their lives just to figure out what I want. Just in an attempt to please me.”

“What is it that you do want?”

“In truth, I want nothing more than for all of my children to find themselves. And you’ve done a wonderful job at it, Mary. You had to dig deep, but here she is before me. I’m proud of you.”

“What about the people who don’t succeed?”

“They get a second chance, my child. And another, and another. Each of you spends as much time on Earth as you need. All are redeemable. Even your father someday might find his way here. And I assure you, he will not be the same man who pushed you out into the cold.”

Mary thought back to that day. Her mother had found her underwear hidden under her mattress. Father was told. Father was not pleased. Father hurled epithets and slurs before hurling her onto the front lawn.

God sensed Mary’s sadness at the reminder of her dark past. “I’m sorry, Mary, I didn’t mean to lower your spirits by bringing that up.”

“No, I’m… fine. I’ve processed it all before. It just has me wondering: why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did it have to happen? Why did I have to suffer? Why did so many have to suffer abuse, floods, starvation, and illness? Why did any human ever need to spend a single night sleeping beneath an overpass for shelter from the rain? Or watch as a loved one suffers from cancer and slowly drifts off into the ether?”

They pondered for a moment. “Light is what illuminates, but darkness is what defines. You could never see the brightest star if it were surrounded by the same shine. What happens on Earth is so often very harsh, but also so often quite beautiful. For all, it is made right in the end. I’m sorry for what happened to you, Mary, but it brought you to yourself. It brought you here.”

This answer felt unsatisfying. Sure, it seemed true to an extent - but did this God not have the power to make suffering unnecessary? Did They not design the laws of nature? Were they not clever enough to find another way?

“I’m not sure I’m ready to forgive you.”

God sighed. “You are not alone in this sentiment, my child. Many of you have come around in time - you have all the time you need… but I understand if this remains how you feel. I do not punish others for my mistakes.” They paused to indicate the end of a line of thought. “Would you like to see your wife?”

“Soon.”

“Of course. Call out when you’re ready.”

“I will. For now, I’d just like to rest a bit longer. I need a moment to think.”

Everyday

Mary had spent some years on her own, now. Lily passed away from cancer seven years prior, so the old house always seemed empty. It was never quiet - in fact, it was as loud as ever - with its creaks and cracks and the little shake it did when the A/C came on. It was an old house, for an old woman whose body made many of the same noises.

She wasn’t depressed by any definition of the word, not lately. But approaching her eighty-fifth birthday, with no companionship beyond her goldfish and occasional visits from her adopted grandchildren, she was lonely. It seemed about time for her journey to be over. She’d done everything she wanted to in this world: she’d loved, she’d traveled, she’d blossomed into the woman she always hoped she could be. Sure, her body was never perfect. But whose was? She wouldn’t change a thing. Mary had stuck around for her family, and her goldfish, but all the while she grew tired.

When one day she found her goldfish belly-up, she knew it was her time. So she called for a final birthday celebration. Everyone came - at least everyone who was left. Her son, Jimmy, brought the cake. Her daughter, Susan, decorated the house. Little Bobby made her a card. And her granddaughter, Millie, wrote a poem.

Jimmy lit the candles on the cake, but Mary’s lungs struggled to blow them out. Bobby excitedly volunteered to do the job, and did it with gusto. Bobby is a good boy, Mary thought. But it was clear he didn’t understand this would be the last time he blew out her birthday candles.

Mary invited everyone to stay and relax with a cup of tea, while she went back to her bed to rest. Jimmy was the first to come visit.

“Hey Mom,” Jimmy said, knocking lightly on the doorframe. “May I come in?”

“Of course, my dear.”

“I, uh… I think I know why you asked for a birthday party all of a sudden. It’s the first time since Mama died… and I just want you to know we all love you. We’re gonna miss you when you’re gone.”

“Don’t you worry about me, Jimmy. When my time comes, it comes, be it tonight or in twenty years. I am at peace with it.”

“Still, I… I want you to know how much you mean to me. Mom, if you hadn’t pulled me off the street when you did, I’m not sure where I’d be. I know I’d never have met my husband. Maybe I never would have had a home again. Hell, I might have died of AIDS on the street.”

“But you didn’t. Don’t be so hung up on what-ifs. The fact is, you’re here now. You’re with us. You’ve grown up into a wonderful man with two wonderful children and you’ve always done the best you could, at every step of the way. I’m proud of you.”

Jimmy hugged her and went back out to the living room, where his husband and children quietly sipped their hot cocoa.

Susan was the next to visit. Her knock was always quieter than her brother’s, but Mary heard and welcomed her in.

“Hey Mom.”

“Hi, Susan. I’m glad you came. It’s always good to see you.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around more. I’m just… still trying to get life figured out.”

“It’s rare to find a person who isn’t.”

“I know, but it just seems like every time I have things under control, there’s another thing to worry about! And I don’t even have kids! How did you do it?”

“All I can say is I took it one day at a time. The great curse of aging is we can’t always remember just how we got here. Either in general, or sometimes when we walk into the kitchen and forget why we came.”

Susan laughed, just a little, but there was a shimmer of a tear in her eyes. “I’m glad your sense of humor is still okay.” She sighed. “I don’t feel like my life before you was even real. The orphanage was such a strange place. And everyone told me I’d never get adopted if I was still there by my teens, but…” Susan wasn’t sure how to finish her thought. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, my life didn’t really begin until you were in it. You gave me love. And long after you’re gone, I’ll never forget you, Mom.”

“I’ll never forget you either. Now, praytell, who are you again?”

Susan smiled, a single tear rolling down her left cheek. “Don’t even joke about that. Please.”

“Okay, okay. I love you Susan. Even though you haven’t quite found your way, I know you will.”

Susan hugged Mary tightly, like she couldn’t stand to let go. But eventually she did, and walked back to the living room. Mary looked to her bed stand and saw Bobby’s card. It was made of pink construction paper with a baby-blue crayon trim. The cover read, “to my favorite grandma.” Inside, it said, “don’t tell other grandma.” Bobby was such a funny kid, Mary thought. He must have taken after her.

Another knock came on the door. It was Millie.

“Hi Grandma. How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling pretty well for my age, all things considered. How are you?”

“I’ve been better, I guess. But I wanted to read you the poem I wrote.”

“Of course, dear. Go ahead.”

I went to three wise men,

Asking each a question:

To the first, I asked,

“What is your age?”

He smiled, and said,

“My body is formed

From the cosmos.

I have never not been

And never will not be,

But I can speak

For only so long.”

To the second, I asked,

“What is life?”

He thought, and said,

“Life is a moment,

Fleeting,

One of blacks and whites

And grays between,

And I have spent it

Adjusting my eyes.”

To the third, I asked,

“What is death?”

He frowned, and said,

“To taste life’s elixir

Is to drink the poison;

The time comes for us all.

But only a charlatan

Could ever claim

To know death’s secrets.”

“That was beautiful, Millie,” Mary said, wiping a tear from her eye. “What has you thinking so much about death? You’re so young.”

“I’m old enough. I know this is probably the last time we’ll all see you. You know it too.”

“Yes, but… I’m old. I know it’s coming for me, and I’ve accepted that. You should be so full of life!”

“I’m not.”

“Why, Millie?”

Millie hesitated, as if what was coming was something she had never spoken aloud before.

“My body is… doing things… and I… I don’t feel right. I think I’m… like you. And I don’t know what to do about it. I - I can’t take this anymore.” She burst into tears.

“Would you feel better if I called you something else?”

“No. It’d just feel weird. I haven’t earned it yet.”

“You don’t need to earn anything, my child. You deserve to feel comfortable within your skin.”

“Well, I don’t! I don’t feel comfortable! I want to fucking die!”

Mary wasn’t quite sure the best thing to say. Not yet, anyway. She could relate in principle, and she’d met plenty of people like Millie, but on a personal level, she was coming at this from the other side.

“Honey, please don’t say you want to die. I know that feeling. I know what it’s like for your own body to betray you. But I can’t promise you that death is going to get you a better one. Is there an afterlife? Maybe. But even more uncertain is whether it’s one worth dying for. You need to stay with us for a guarantee that you can be yourself. Your fathers will understand…”

“No they won’t! They aren’t like us!”

“They aren’t. But I raised one of them, Millie.”

They were both quiet for a moment. Mary saw the pain in her grandchild’s eyes, a longing for a missing piece of the self. A longing that lashed out with the strength of a dozen puberties. It was not so easily satisfied. Mary wasn’t sure whether she’d handled this right - things were so different when she was a teen - but she knew she was trying her best. She had nothing but love in her heart, and that’s what really mattered.

“Mack.”

“Hm?” Mary replied, having been lost in thought.

“I was thinking, maybe I’d go by Mack. Just to try it out.”

“Have you considered your pronouns?”

“They/them. For now.”

“Well, Mack, here’s what you need to do. You have a loving family who will never abandon you and you have more technology at your fingertips than I could ever have hoped for at your age. Tell your fathers and have them make an appointment with my endocrinologist, Dr. Davis. You’re going to be okay. It’s going to get better.”

Mack hugged her tightly, nearly as tightly as their makeshift binder hugged their chest. Mary noticed it peeking out from under Mack’s loose top.

“Mack, before anything else you need to get a proper binder. I don’t know how you breathe in that thing.”

Mack wiped their face of tears and smiled just a little. They had hope, now. Mary could see it.

After a long evening, everyone was tired. It was time to go home. Mary walked them all to their cars and watched as they drove away. She hoped they all accepted it. She had. She was ready to die, ready to see where it would take her.

She shut off the lights in the house and climbed into bed. She glanced at the book on her bed stand. It was a large one, of at least 1000 pages, and her bookmark stuck out from only halfway in. Mary thought to herself, well, not everything can have a tidy ending. As long as she’s alive, there will always be things she’ll never know. She turned off the lamp and laid down to sleep for the last time. More easily than she had become, she no longer was.