I opened the door, and there it was.
Things kept flowing in my head. Memories rushed past like express trains. They kept redundantly flashing bits and pieces of what life was like at a time. They reminded me of everything I’ve gained and subsequently lost in time. It was like being present in a big room full of TVs on the walls, each playing a different channel, or in this case a memory from your life. I couldn’t focus on just any one memory. My mind wouldn’t stop spinning. My eyes felt like closing, but I didn’t let them at the thought of missing something important. I knew I had to keep watching.
And then it stopped. It stopped like a broken record. I was standing on the edge of a cliff. I looked down and saw the sea far below, licking the boulders that lay at the spot I was going to hit. I was going to jump. I knew I had already decided. There was no going back. Was there anything that would make me go back to life? All I could see was the end, and I stared closely into the eyes of death as it waited impatiently to take me away to hell. My eyes were full, and I saw, in the blurriness, a teardrop fall into the sea that tasted my pain and held out its arms, waiting for me to embrace its cold arms and get lost into its dark depths. I closed my eyes, praying my last prayer in the hope that He would give me the strength to take the leap. A lightning struck, and it almost sounded to me like it said-“Turn around, my son.”
I turned around, and I was at the far end of a long hallway. It was a dark hall full of dark doors that hid behind them some fresh form of hell. But at the farthest end, I saw light. I saw that one white door, behind which I could see a bright shimmer of light. As I walked past the dark doors, I was reminded of every pain, every sorrow, and every teardrop I had shed. Finally I stopped and opened the twelfth dark door and saw that it led me back, to the edge of the cliff. I looked again, at the bright door that lay, far but real. I ran to the door, my tears blinding me. All I could see was the light. With that as my guide, I ran till I could feel the light right in front of me.
I opened the door, and there it was.
My heart leapt at the memory that came-a smile. A wound-healing smile that could change the way the world seemed. A smile that mattered a lot to me, that smile. Every time those lips part to reveal that smile, my heart would stop beating. I couldn’t imagine a single instance where it didn’t happen. It’s a one-in-a-million kind of smile, that smile.
I stared at the memory, open-mouthed. My heart rose to the pain it had learnt to forget. It started beating again. It beat so loud I could almost hear it. And then surprisingly, my lips curved into a smile. Seeing that smile made me realize how much I had missed it. I had loved everything about and everything connected to that smile. It was that smile that made me want to live, and the lack of which made me not want to. But it was eminent that it had an effect on me. But I had learnt to smile at it. I had learnt to smile at the pain that it brought along. I had learnt to smile at anything and everything that that one smile brought with it.
Life isn’t fair. Sometimes it gets rough. Sometimes you might end up so deep in sorrow that you want to end it right there right then. If and when you’re there, just do one thing. Do as I did. Close your eyes and pray the prayer I did. Pray for the bright door. Pray for the one reason to make you want to breathe again. God will answer. And you will know. So hold on to your last breath. For once!
