Soar

Chapter 1 The Morning Everything Changed This is a story about a man named Jack and woman named Dolly who fell in love, had three amazing children, a cherished life together and one dog, but through fates ultimate plan and clearly not one of their own, came far too early for one of them. It may seem uncharacteristic to begin a story with the end, but what this story will show us all, is the perceived end is actually, the most beautiful beginning anyone of us could possibly imagine. In fact, this end is the ultimate destination and journey we will all take when are time is ripe. For Jack Mandisa, he had imagined this passage for quite some time. Especially in those amazing seconds immediately after Dolly’s untimely departure so many years before. In those seconds after, Jack subconsciously, rekindle his thoughts, his dreams, and his imagination of what it could possibly be like. But, even if he was ready today, he would have to wait. He wasn’t quite prepared, but his body sure felt like it was. For the last few years, he had endured the pain, the hacking cough, and the brutal and surreal loneliness only losing the love of your life can bring. But time, this morning, was not his side. No, he would have wait and put up with the aches, the pains, and the brutal and uncommon loneliness for just a few hours more. Illusions and dreams became quite common for him in his last few days. Whether he imagined his and Dolly’s life when they were younger or his relentless rituals, he created following her passing, lying in his bed provided the perfect and only respite for his imagination. So, like clockwork his eyes opened to stare at the fan above. It could be morning or night, but in truth, it didn’t matter. As his mind drifted once more, he rose from his bed and swung his feet around to ideally land on the carpet below. He stretched his arms upward and attempted to feel the carpet between his toes. He slowly and gingerly stood, in an attempt, to gain his balance. With his balance secure, Jack made his way to his home office to continue his morning ritual. Since the day Dolly passed so many years before, Jack’s quest to find spiritual signs delivered directly from her was all he could live for and seek. Whether it was butterflies fluttering through the wind, the sway of a tree branch or the trusted cardinal swooping in on the unexpected morning, it didn’t matter which one showed up, it was more of a hopeful expectation they would be the promised sign everything would be okay. Everyone told him the signs were real, but ironically, none of them ever seemed to show up for him on time when he searched. Day after day, he moped around attempting to convince himself he had seen one or all of them. When, in reality, his cynical mindset knew he had created an illusion the signs were meant directly for him. All the while, he knew deep down he had only fooled himself into believing his fictional account of his own illusions. The truth was the signs he had picked were too coincidental. They were around anyways, and if they did show up, how could he really be sure it was her and not nature just being nature. No, Jack always needed more proof. He needed that undeniable feeling the signs were real and she was still in reach of that familiar and comforting embrace. No matter how hard he pushed he knew he needed more. As he rested his feet upon his desk in his office, he coughed and hacked as he stared out his window and waited. The waiting always seemed like an eternity. The fact was, he really didn’t know what he was waiting for but nonetheless, stared out the window for something. Periodically, a bird would fly by, or the wind would kick up and Jack would try to convince himself they all had spiritual meaning. He followed this routine for years until finally he had enough. He needed to change his scenery. For him, it was all about what he would described as ‘the art of distraction. Whether it was mindless television, endless surfing of the Internet or setting up travel to change his scenery. The idea to distract his mind from his actual reality of losing Dolly too soon, became his only form of therapy he could muster. The continual interrupting of his thoughts through these ‘going through the motion’ events and activities became his only motivation of the day. On the morning that everything would change, Jack gazed out his window to look once more for his next sign, but today, the sun was absent. The deafening silence within his ongoing and unfathomable void erupted, so he quickly turned on some music to start his day. Classic Rock ruled the moment as his ‘art of distraction’ took center stage and Kansas’s timeless song ‘Carrying on my Wayward Son’ emerged from his speaker. Jack lost himself in the familiar song as he closed his eyes and slipped away. At first, he was brought back to her bedside years before as he mindlessly stared. It was the same routine he had mastered for months which had become a numbing exercise of surrealism. Helpless and completely drained, all he could do was glance over at the mere shell of the love of his life, who was moments from knocking on Heaven’s door. With every intention, to remain alert, Jack fought hard to steal the glances while uttering phrases of encouragement until his eyes grew heavy. For the first time in over eleven days, his fatigue won over. The battle she had endured baffled even the most seasoned nurses and clinicians. It was over eleven days in hospice and ten of them lacked food while seven of them lacked any form of fluids.