Awake in Hell

by Downing, Helen

  Mom’s eyes well up with tears. “You’ll always be my Dinny, and I’m proud of you. I know your Grandfather would have loved to have seen you today. He would have told you that you look like your mom.”

  “See, how well she knows me?” Dad says proudly.

  “And he would have loved to dance at your wedding,” Mom says, now bursting into fresh tears.

  Dad leans over to me and says, “Don’t you puke on me bitch!” and starts laughing uproariously.

  “Speaking of mouths, Dad! Jeez!” I proclaim. “Watch your language! You are in like, the holiest of holy or something!” I look at him as if I’m appalled.

  “Eh, it’s worth a quarter. It’s a great gag!” he says dismissively.

  Back on the screen, Mom and Dinny have been joined by Linda. Seeing her makes my heart lurch. “How did she do after I died?” I ask Dad.

  “She was inconsolable for a while. But, life moved on for everyone. She became very close with Dinny. When she and Hank lost their home during the recession of 2012, they got an apartment in the same building as Dinny and kept an eye on her. She still visits your grave regularly, and changes out flower arrangements, depending on the season. She was a good friend to you.”

  Linda and Hank have had hard times, but have weathered them together. That makes me feel good. Then I ask, “And Bobby?”

  “Bobby should be showing up any minute now to walk his daughter down the aisle,” dad says. “Be prepared, he will be with his wife. He married a woman from work, about five years after you’d gone. Name of Sue Ann? She claimed to have known you and she made a beautiful toast to you at her wedding.”

  I just start to laugh and laugh. Good for Bobby. “Bobby always liked his women fast and loose,” I say through my laughter.

  And so it went on and on – seeing family and friends both inside the room and on the screen. I watched my darling girl walk up the aisle and marry. I secretly send her my best intentions and hopes for a long and happy life. When I saw Bobby again my heart began to race. He has aged gracefully, and he still has those eyes that make my stomach go all wiggly. I smile as I look down at Sue Ann. And I know what some of you may be thinking. But I know that Bobby was faithful to me when I was alive. I was burned by relationships many times before him, but he was the genuine article.

  As she walks back down the aisle, hand in hand with her new groom, Dinny emerges outside of the church and looks up. “Hope you can see this, Mommy,” she says, seemingly directly to me. She continues, “I hope you are happier today then you were yesterday, and I hope all your tomorrows will be wonderful!” Then she blows a kiss toward the sky and I reach out as if to catch it. My darling girl, who’s all grown up. How much of her life I missed, but now I can keep my promise and look down on her. My heart feels like it’s going to burst with utter joy.

  Suddenly the air changes in the room. The mood turns solemn and the screen disappears. Everyone is whispering nervously and standing and straightening their clothes. I look at my Dad who is now standing straight backed like he’s at attention in the military. “What’s up?” I say to him, rising out of my seat.

  “The Big Guy is here.” Dad says, with a touch of nerves seeping into his voice.

  “Deedy?” I say just as he bursts through the door.

  “Deedy!” I confirm with gusto.

  “Louise!” Deedy responds grinning at me. “Did you enjoy your daughter’s wedding?”

  “It was amazing. Thank you, so much.” I say to him, again.

  “Well, if you can handle it, I’ve got one more thing for you to see. Follow me, my darling girl!” and he spins and marches out of the room.

  As I follow him, I hear my Dad as he speaks to his parents. “That’s our Louise!” he says proudly, “Twenty seven years in Hell and still she’s on a first name basis with the most high Deity!”

  We are walking into the common room and I look at Deedy. “I get it! Deedy... Deity!” I say with wonder.

  “Rydych yn ffycin wych,” he says in Welsh. “Wanna know what that means?”

  “Probably not,” I answer, laughing.

  “Well, now that you’re in Heaven, you can always Google it.” he says, smiling.

  “We have actual Internet here?” I say.

  “Well, with one heck of a firewall we do!” he states.

  “Can’t have people sending emails to the breathers or anything.” His mischievous smile makes me laugh. “Here we are, time to take a look at your new home!” He points me toward the window.

  I look out and see nothing but the usual bright nothingness, and I feel the blindness coming. “It’s not working!” I whine to Deedy.

  “Sorry, I forgot. It is finally time for this.” And as he speaks, he reaches out and wraps his arms around me. I am in the embrace of God, which fills me up and makes me feel whole, safe, and incredibly happy. My eyes begin to clear. I look out the window again and see a wondrous world. Not apart from Hell, for both worlds exist within the same place. There are whole neighborhoods that to me, looked like empty parking lots. There are mountains in the distance with great mansions on them, and I see the tops of the buildings, many with people and a few with angels actually on the roof enjoying the day or having parties. There are angels in the sky too, overlooking the city. There are parks, playgrounds, pools and dog parks filled with happy people and animals. “All of this was here the whole time, and I never knew it.” I say.

  “You once was blind… as the old song goes,” Deedy says with a smile. “Now, you have to choose a new place to live, and a new job. Wait until you see the real estate choices you’ve got now! Full Amenities! And, the best news is, here you can be anything you’ve ever wanted to be, whether it is a chocolate taster, fashion designer or an encyclopedia salesman!” He looks at me expectantly.

  “Okay,” I say thoughtfully, “But I thought I had a job. Working as a temp for you?” I look at him with my request glowing in my eyes. I don’t want to leave the agency. And if there’s nothing more for them to do for me there, then there has to be something I can do for others. He meets my gaze and smiles wide. “I was hoping you would say that!” he answers.

  I am standing in a chain store in the corner. It’s weird being invisible to some people. When I walk down the streets now they look so much cleaner and brighter than they used to, the hazy orange-ness that I used to think was emanating from the heat was actually coming from me, keeping me blind. Now that my eyes are open, I know the streets are filled with loving, happy people. There are always conversations, reunions, and hugs and kisses. People like to enjoy the always-temperate weather by gathering outside, sometimes for a feast or to dance. But the lost ones go by without ever seeing us. Like Martha, the woman I have to deliver this sticky note to. She’s folding thin, threadbare towels for a display inside the store. Tears are cutting little rivers into her thick, overdone make-up. Her dress looks terribly uncomfortable, with its hard, rough material that is red and white. I’m pretty sure it might be an actual circus tent.

  I take the sticky note that says:

  DO YOU BELONG HERE?

  CALL US TO FIND OUT!

  SECOND CHANCE TEMP AGENCY

  (666)-573-2236

  And stick it to the next towel she will grab. I stand back and watch while she finds it, looks around, then places it inside her bra. I giggle, knowing she won’t hear me as my mind reaches back and I remember when I found mine. It is hard to believe that was me — angry, hard, wallowing in my decimated self-image. I kind of envy her for the experiences she’s about to have. Remembering is different for everybody, as Deedy has told me, but it is always remarkable. As I leave, I tap on my communicator in my ear. “Heading back to the office, Gabby. Is there coffee?”

  So, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. The afterlife is a lot like the right-now life. You get out of it what you put into it. You can make it into heaven or you can make it into Hell. But, it’s up to you to make it. And stop measuring yourself with a different yardstick than you measure everyon
e else. Just remember:

  Create Joy.

  Be indiscriminate with your kindness.

  Forgive… Period… Even Yourself… Especially Yourself.

  Love Unconditionally.

  Understand, that sometimes you might be the student, sometimes you might be the teacher, and sometimes, you just might be the lesson. But, you were created by God to be exactly what you are. Never forget that.

  Everything happens for a reason. Yes, it sounds a bit platitude-y but it’s true. God does not move you around like a chess piece micro-managing every detail in your life. But, I believe that God does guide us on particular paths — even the ones where highwaymen are waiting to ambush us. There is something to be gained from every experience. Embrace that.Stop thinking that you have all the answers. Whether in life, or in the afterlife. We each have a thread in a giant tapestry. Whether that thread is our religion, faith, morality, values, culture, or flaws, it is part of a greater tapestry. So, weave it into others. Try to learn from them, as well as teach them. Because I think that if we could see that giant tapestry, we would be looking at God.

  And most importantly, life is just a temp job. Ultimately, it is one you’re going to get fired from, at some point. So, learn what you can, and have some fun, and stop taking yourself so damned seriously! When they hand you your termination slip, don’t forget to pack up all the love and good memories to take with you. Otherwise, you might end up in Hell. And trust me, waking up in Hell? Definitely NOT recommended.

  Epitaph

  This was a story. Just a story, about what I think it means to go to heaven or Hell. It’s not an indictment on religion (any religion.) It’s not intended to be sacrilegious or disrespectful. These are my words, and I thank my Creator (whoever he/she may turn out to be) for every single one of them. Even the approximate sixty three times when the word was the f-bomb. The one word that my mom is going to sigh over and tell me I should watch my language.

  Speaking of Mom — I am one. My daughter Linda and my son Patch were a big part of writing this book and not just as inspiration. Those two little miracles even before either one of them could speak, taught me how to love unconditionally, so for that I will always be grateful for them and to them.

  I was divorced twice. Apparently I have fabulous taste in shoes but shit taste in men. So a lot of this book was part of my healing process. Soon after the book was originally available, I met Larry, a guy who only has one pair of black shoes and one pair of sneakers but has extraordinary taste in women. And he picked me! We are currently working on “happily ever after”. (I’ll keep you posted.)

  My father is a Methodist Minister, and I remember him telling a story from the pulpit when I was young. I’ve since heard it several more times from other people too, but I’ve always remembered it. It goes like this: There was once an old man who knew he would die soon.

  He wanted to know what Heaven and Hell were like

  He visited a wise man in his village to ask, "Can you tell me what Heaven and Hell are like?"

  The wise man led him down a strange path, deep into the countryside. Finally they came upon a large house with many rooms and went inside.

  Inside they found lots of people and many enormous tables with an incredible array of food.

  Then the old man noticed a strange thing, the people, all thin and hungry were holding chopsticks 12-feet long. They tried to feed themselves, but of course could not get the food to their mouths with such long chopsticks.

  The old man then said to the wise man "Now I know what Hell looks like, will you please show me what Heaven looks like?"

  The wise man led him down the same path a little further until they came upon another large house similar to the first. They went inside and saw many people well fed and happy, they too had chopsticks 12-feet long.

  This puzzled the old man and he asked, "I see all of these people have 12-foot chopsticks too, yet they are well fed and happy, please explain this to me.

  The wise man replied, "In Heaven we feed each other"

  I think that story, combined with all the lessons that I have (unfortunately) been determined to learn the hard way during this life, is what became the stock for the soup that turned into this. I hope it fed someone out there.

  I’d like to thank every person in my life who gave me a reason to smile, a reason to cry, a reason to forgive, and a reason to be forgiven.

  And thank you. Writing something doesn’t mean shit. It has to be read before it can be a book.

  -Helen Downing

  Please enjoy this preview of Helen Downing’s

  REMEMBERING HELL

  CHAPTER ONE

  The old woman woke up suddenly, startled perhaps by continued life itself, with no idea where she was. Then it dawned on her. She was in her recliner in the living room. ‘Damn’ she thinks to herself, ‘I fell asleep in front of the TV again’. She gingerly starts to shift in the roomy seat as if lubricating her old bones in preparation of getting up. ‘Getting old isn’t for pussies.’ She thinks, laughing out loud at her own joke. She starts to rise, sits down hard and tries again. After the second false start she almost begins to regret not allowing her niece to buy her that electric recliner that has the automatic seat that will dump a person out like a giant regurgitating monster at the push of a button.

  When she is finally upright she glances at the television to check the time. Her life had become so predictable that a glance was all it took. There is no clock on the TV, but she can estimate the time based on what is on, and what is happening on the program. She has become quite the creature of habit in her advanced age, and despite the fact that there is little to no chance that will ever change, it doesn’t stop her from hating herself for it.

  According to undoubtable evidence (first round of Jeopardy) it is around 7:15 in the evening. That doesn’t give her much time. Her husband will be home within the half hour after his hard day of hanging out with a bunch of other old coots at the lodge shooting the shit all day. To say she’s amazed by the fact that the same half-dozen geezers can consistently show up to the same place every day and still have anything at all to talk about is an understatement. Not that they need new material. The old favorites: The world is going to hell in a hand basket, what happened to music/movies/sports teams, what those kids today are thinking with the way they dress/behave/think/act is standard fare for her other half and his cronies. If they had their way, John Wayne would still be riding tall, President Reagan would have been elected King of America, and Clint Eastwood would have remained a badass before he got old and turned into a wuss making chick flicks that make folks cry. What happens to men when they get old? Why do every single one of them turn into Grandpa from the Waltons?

  She is smiling to herself as she ambles into the kitchen. When you are young, you never think about the end. Sure, when she was a girl she would imagine growing old with her friends and her husband, but that was more about growing up, not growing old. The fact is, you don’t think about it because to contemplate aging means facing the fact that you are going to die. And while every human being spends some time reflecting on how or when they will meet their personal demise, we spend no time imagining what it will be like to wake up in a body that doesn’t work anymore, or to look at a reflection of a decrepit version of what we once were.

  Death is a stealthy creature for most of us. It sneaks up behind us while we aren’t paying attention, then all of a sudden you know deep within you, that the world has left you behind. And for her, that was not metaphorical. Sometimes she felt as though she was the last real person at the party.

  Once again she wondered why she had been chosen from all those that she had known and loved to be cursed with damnable longevity. There were those, some of whom she can hardly bear to think about let alone name, who led incredible lives. Some had families, some had adventures, and one had it all. In the meantime, she had lived small and unimportant. But she had lived long.

  She reaches into the cabinet underneath the co
unter for a large pot. Then almost by rote she begins to reach up into cupboards for spices and into the freezer for meat and tomato sauce, and one more stop under the sink and she was ready to begin. As she was rising from her last trip around the kitchen her eyes fell on the now dead flowers her husband had presented her the previous week for her 89th birthday. She laughed quietly as she scooped them out of the vase and into the trash. ‘This is what I get for living almost a century’ she thinks ruefully ‘More things that decay and die before I do.” Exactly a week before when her husband had come in with these, at the time in full bloom and color, in a huge bouquet wrapped with a huge red bow. It’s not that she hates flowers, but she doesn’t exactly love them either. She ended up feeling as ambiguous about her gift as she did about her actual birthday. And lately about her life.

  The microwave starts beeping so she goes over and gets the Tupperware container now filled with sauce in place of the block of red ice she had put inside. She pours it in the pot while the burger is browning in a frying pan on the burner next to it. She lets out a long tired moan as she lifts the heavy pan and dumps the meat into the pot. Then she begins to stir, and get lost in thought. She remembers a saying. ‘If I had any decency I would be dead. Everyone else is.’ That thought brings another laugh to the surface. Who had said that? It was someone famous. That terrible woman from the Algonquin Roundtable. What was her name?