The Waiting Room

The Man awoke. As his eyes adjusted, he found himself in a room. Some sort of waiting room to be exact. It did not look like any waiting room he had known in his life time. The walls were a cream color with a brown square pattern running up and down them. Adorning the walls were various frames, that housed either mundane pictures of people doing mundane things; feeding pigeons, flying kites, reading bills at a kitchen table or bland posters with messages written in block lettering. Some of the posters said the standard things you'd expect in a waiting room: "Out of respect for others please no loud talking" or "Please wait for your name to be called."One that particularly stood out to the man read, "Remain calm, this is not the end."

The Man blinked a couple of times as he began to shake the grogginess of his slumber off. He looked around the room again and he noticed more peculiar things; the carpet was a shaggy baby blue, the furniture was composed of bright pastel colors and the ceiling was yellow with fluorescent lighting. And finally, he noticed the only other person in the room with him, an older man behind a desk. The Man Behind The Desk wore a white short sleeve button up shirt, a tie at his neck, a gold watch on his wrist and glasses at the brim of his nose. His hair was black with a thinning hairline, it looked like it had been originally styled but now was sort of falling into disarray. The Man couldn't make out his face as it was buried in his paper work. As The Man studied him, The Man Behind The Desk raised his hand and motioned towards him, calling his name. The Man sat for a moment confused as to how this stranger knew his name before The Man Behind The Desk looked up at him from his stack of papers and sighed, "come forward please."

The Man stood up and walked toward him. As he got to the edge of the desk which was raised so that it came to the middle of his torso he could see more details in The Man Behind The Desk's face. His face was tired, with wrinkles at his eyes and mouth, yet in the old tired eyes The Man could see a glint of kindness that seemed to put him at ease, the last thing he noticed before The Man Behind The Desk cut into his examination was his name tag, it read "Peter."

"Hello young man." Peter said as he looked up at The Man from behind a pair of rim horned square frames. The Man sheepishly replied, "Uhh hi umm--" "Do you know where you are?" Peter cut in. The Man looked around once more at the strange waiting room and shook his head. Peter sighed softly and produced a small smile, "you are in the place between places, at the gates of the afterlife son, where your soul is weighed, your file is read and your path is determined." "I'm...dead?" The Man asked. Peter once again produced a slight smile, clasped his hands together and leaned slightly forward, "Yes son, you have passed beyond the mortal plane to ours, the process is different for everyone, some remember and some forget, this can be a lot so you can take a moment if you need, just remember to remain calm, this is not the end." The Man took a slight step back, his breathing became heavy for a moment as he remembered the events that had transpired; he had been sick, he had been very sick for some time. But it wasn't until he went to the doctors office for a check up after he had developed a rather nasty cough one afternoon that he found out how sick he had really been. The Man turned away from Peter and walked towards the waiting room, he remembered clearly now. He had kept it from his family, he hadn't wanted to worry them, it wasn't until the end that they knew. Once he had lost the pounds, once it hurt him to work in his garden, to play with the kids. He remembered his mothers tears as she found out her son was dying. He remembered the look of confusion on his children's faces as he told them their father wouldn't be around to see them grow up, the hurt in his wife's eyes as she realized her partner would no longer be around to share a life with her. It was quick after that, a week or two. The last days spent in a cold hospital room, hooked up to machines that never seemed to quiet down. He remembered his last moments, his family around him, his wife's hand in his, the single tear that ran down his face as the light faded. He was dead. He had died in that room and woken up in this one.

The Man realized he was gripping the back of a chair quite tightly. He straightened himself out and turned towards Peter, "I feel sort of sad, well I think I should feel sad but I don't, I want to cry or think I do but I can't, why is that?" Peter got up from his chair and walked around the desk towards The Man. The Man could now see that Peter wore black slacks with wingtip black dress shoes, he now noticed a ring around his finger, with an insignia he could not recognize. Peter put his arm on The Man's shoulder and The Man felt at ease. "There are no tears here, no sadness or grief or anger. Only tranquility, peace. Come let's move the process along shall we?" Peter walked The Man back towards the desk and sat once more. He looked down at The Man's file and then up at The Man, "So now you know you've passed, now you know that you are to be judged, so now I ask you the most important question" Peter took a slight pause, "what are you most proud of from your mortal life? What did you accomplish son?"

The Man looked at Peter's kind old face, at his desk full of files, at the ring on his finger and for the first time at the door directly behind Peter. A dark wooden door, plain and boring except for a golden knob. It was the most beautiful thing The Man had seen, so intricately adorned and sculpted, his brain couldn't fully comprehend its make up but he knew it was beautiful. He looked back at Peter who was still waiting for his response.

And so The Man thought. He thought back to his mortal life. The Sunday's spent at church, the nights spent reading scripture, the afternoons spent helping the priest as an altar boy, maybe he could tell him he was proud to have been a faithful believer? No, Peter had probably heard that a million times. He thought to his academic endeavors, his community service, his numerous accolades in sports growing up. Maybe he could tell him he was proud of his career, of how he blazed a path for others like him, of his work with social programs? No that would make him seem bad he thought, like those big rich guys who always tried to make themselves seem good by talking about their charity work besides what was that bible quote about the rich man and the needle? Something about a camel?

The Man chuckled, he should definitely not brag about being devoted if he couldn't remember that passage. Then, The Man's face lit up, he'd tell him he was proud to have been a father, proud to have raised his children with good morals in a loving home, proud to have been a good husband, a good son. But shouldn't everyone shoot for that? The Man brought his hand to his chin and sighed, this was the hardest question he had ever faced, how does one pick a single thing from an entire human life? Life is full of things to be proud of, if you live it right, isn't the whole point of the human experiment to live? To experience pain, joy and sorrow and still muster on? To find the beauty in everything and anything? To live a life of kindness with no hope of recompense but simply for the sake of kindness? That was it he thought, The Man looked at Peter and with a smile said, "I'm most proud of having lived a life." Peter smiled at him and put his pen down.

The Man continued, "I was lucky to live a life, full of beauty and terror and all of it. I am most proud of being able to live it fully, on my own terms, with people I loved and who loved me back. So what did I accomplish? I lived a life." The Man said with a soft laugh and a big smile. Peter closed The Man's file, opened a desk drawer and withdrew a large stamp. He pressed it down hard on The Man's file and before The Man could read what it said, Peter moved it to a pile on the right hand side of the desk and stood up. He fixed his tie and ran a hand through his hair. He stepped around the desk and gestured towards the door behind it. The Man looked at Peter and then at the door, "what's back there?" he asked. Peter put a hand on The Man's shoulder as he walked him towards the door, "what comes next." he said softly. The Man gave one last look at Peter and the waiting room, Peter softly nodded and The Man put his hand on the door knob, a sense of elation shot through him. He turned the knob and pushed the door open, The Man felt...at ease. He stepped through the door and onwards to what came next.

The End...?