Gabriel Farmer sat quietly outside of
the hospital trauma bay completely lost in thought. The doctors worked furiously on the squadmate
but the damage was irreparable and they were unable to save him. Gabe looked down at his blood soaked hands
and wondered why him? Why was death
haunting him? It seemed that everywhere
he went, death followed like an unshakeable shadow. He was the reaper of souls dressed in a blue
uniform taking from people he came in contact with and wanted no part of that
responsibility.
It
was senseless, this death of a good cop.
The suspect managed to live through surgery and would later stand trial
for his misdeeds but he would be alive to face judgment. Gabe’s squadmate was robbed of that option
and he knew it was somehow his fault. He
was cursed. What started out that day as
a joke was becoming true, he was the “Angel of Death”. It was senseless for the tormented man to die
an agonizing death and the mourning widower to cut his own life short. Now his partner was taken. It was too much to burden and Gabe felt
crushed by the weight of it all.
Other
cops came to the hospital in the tragic hour of need but for some reason steered
clear of Gabe as he sat contemplating his reasoning for being. It was like they too believed he was a cursed
man.
Maybe
it was true, he thought.
Gabe felt the
tension from the other cops and decided to walk away for he did not want to
spread this curse on anyone else. He
found a water fountain down the hallway and took in the refreshing water as his
body begged for it. He found a small
side room and ducked in for an escape. The
cacophony of chaotic sounds, beeps and voices instantly fell silent in the
small room. It would be his sanctuary
from the madness. The room was empty and
he took a seat continuing his own thoughts of torment.
He
stared at the small rubberized wrist band on his hand. It was black with a blue stripe in the
middle, a simple homage to the brotherhood of police officers and how they
stick together. He tugged at it and
threw it across the small room knowing he failed at having his partner’s back
and letting him die. Tears flooded his
eyes and began to roll down his cheeks.
He
cried silently for a moment until he heard the door open. He wiped away the tears and glanced a look
back. An older man, dressed in a
hospital gown looked back at Gabe as he took a seat behind him in the small room. Gabe turned back and dove back into his
thoughts.
After
a minute of shared silence, the man said “You’re looking at it all wrong.”
Gabe
looked up and back around thinking he was talking to someone else, but it was
just them in the room.
“Yes,
I’m talking to you. You are looking at
it all wrong.”
“I’m
sorry, do I know you? What are you
talking about?”
“You’re
thinking you are somehow cursed, right?”
“Yeah,
but how do you know that? Listen, I’m
not really the mood to be messed with.”
“I’m
not messing with you. I’m here to offer.
. .” the man paused, “an alternative perspective.”
Gabe
spun around in his seat and looked straight at the man. He had a long white beard and held a look of aged
wisdom. He maintained a genuine and
serious look. Gabe was at a crossroads
and was willing to accept anything to help him understand this curse.
“Okay,
how should I be looking at it?”
“You
are not cursed for starters. You’re a
messenger, from God.”
“What? Okay, you must have walked over here from the
psych ward, time to go back buddy.”
With
calm clarity that is absent among the sick-minded, the man said, “No, I’m
serious. You are a messenger. The tormented man was that, tormented and you
were able to see that. He had killed his
entire family in a drunk-driving accident years prior and the guilt consumed
him to the point of mental collapse. He
was called home so he could not hurt anyone else and finally be with his
family.”
Gabe
looked at the man shocked but hung on every word wanting to believe what he
said.
“How
did you know about that?”
“I
just do. And the elderly man yesterday,
he failed to mention the pact he made with his wife didn’t he?”
Gabe
shook his head in astonishment.
“After
she died, he had nothing in that life to prove.
He wanted to be with her in eternity as he had in life, so it was
granted and that was unfortunately the quickest way.”
“But
he had life yet to live, it was senseless.”
“You’ll
understand the power of love one day soon.”
“Okay
but today. There is nothing good about
today, nothing!”
“That’s
not true. There is a need for heroes,
even in the afterlife and however untimely it seems, he was called.”
“But,
why not leave him and take the suspect instead, why not take him? Condemn him?”
“He
is wicked, no doubt but he will pay the price for his sins on earth before
coming home, you made sure of that.”
“Me?”
“Yes,
the simple life saving measure you took on scene for him, albeit small and
simple, made the difference in him living or dying.”
“Why
does it have to be death, I don’t think I can’t take any more. I won’t be able to get close to anyone
knowing that death is waiting.”
“Death
waits for us all. But it’s not all about
life and death.”
“Okay?”
“Do
you remember the drug addicted fool you chased the other day?”
“Yes, what about
him? Did he die in jail of an overdose
or something?”
“What if I told
you he finally reached the bottom and your arrest has motivated him to clean
himself up?”
“I
suppose anything’s possible. But, I
don’t understand, so how am I supposed to look at this, I’m not following.”
“Gabriel,
you are not the reaper of souls, you are a guardian angel and a messenger
placed on earth. What better place to
fight the war against good and evil than in the front lines you deal with on a
daily basis? And what better role could
you be in to fight than working in the noblest of all professions, that of a
peacekeeper?”
Gabriel
felt relief as he listened to the man speak and bowed his head in recognition
that his words made sense. Death is a
necessity in life and divine grace can appear even in the worst of
circumstances. Perhaps the old man is
right, he thought. As the words soaked
in, he realized the man spoke his name, without him introducing himself and his
nameplate on his uniform only says his last name. His head shot up to inquire how he knew that
but the man was gone. He whipped his
head around the small room and it was empty.
He was alone, but the words registered and oddly enough Gabriel Farmer
felt better. He felt connected and with
purpose, not lost and burdened.
He got up to leave the small room
and looked back at the far wall. The
sight made him pause and put the odd interaction with the mysterious older man
in perspective. An illuminated crucifix
hung boldly on the wall and on the outside of the room, the nameplate read
“Chapel”.https://www.facebook.com/pages/William-Mark/646479505377248
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