Harry’s Incredible Journey

With a Helping Hand at Hand

Harry stood there, gazing, at nothing. Reaching out, grasping…at nothing.

His wife Mary shook her head. “There you go again. What are you trying pick up?”

Harry took a shaky step forward, reached out, approaching the table lamp.

“Harry,” said his wife, “don’t touch that bulb. You’ll burn yourself.”

But the burning bulb was too far away and even lanky Harry’s arms were too short. Harry stood there, weaving from side to side. He thrust his head forward, squinted, pulled his head back, tilted and peered at the lamp sideways.

“Come on Harry,” his wife insisted for the fifth time. “Your supper’s ready. I made your favorite.”

She was desperate to distract him, for fear that either he would hurt himself or that he would break something. Or both. The place wasn’t exactly “kidproof.”

Harry didn’t move. He seemed to be concentrating on keeping his balance. This phenomenon was still new and Mary wasn’t at all sure how to handle the situation. She tried again.

“Come on Harry. You must be hungry. Come on, let’s have supper.”

But Harry was in a world of his own. He stood there, gazing into the light bulb.

Harry was on a journey.

He wandered through a blank, an luminescent veil, through a mist…and into brightness and an aura of love.
“This must be heaven,” he thought.
Everyone was there. He saw Tilda. He floated toward her, said hello.
Tilda gave him a hug, and they talked.
“How wonderful it is here,” Harry said.
Tilda agreed. “My pain is gone.”
Harry felt his limbs. “Ha. So is mine.”
Harry recalled the days when he and Mary, Tilda and Tom played tennis.
“We were so evenly matched,” he said.
“We beat you every time,” Tilda retorted.
They laughed. Harry couldn’t remember the last time he laughed. He liked it.
And he remembered everything.
He remembered graduation, meeting, marrying and having children with Mary.
He remembered his first day in school.
He recalled the little boat he sailed along the spring runoff in the north country.
He remembered everything.
And he was healed.

“You’re smiling,” a voice said. “Why are you smiling Harry?”

“I remember.”

But then he began to tremble. Scenes began to fade. He became alarmed and his body, shaking now, ached again. His vision dimmed, (shattered into segments, as if seeing through the eyes of a fly).

He swayed, stumbled to regains his balance.

He heard voices. “Wake up. Harry, please wake up. Come back. You’re scaring me.”

Ever so slowly his eyes focused. A woman was standing there. A gaping hole in her face was moving. Bit by bit, sound penetrated his consciousness.

“Why did you bring me back?” he asked.

The face in front of him looked pleased. “Harry, you spoke.”

Harry could not understand the sound.

“I was happy there,” he said. “Why did you bring me back?”

“Harry, you can speak. How wonderful.”

“Mmmnnn—Uh-uh-I-Iiiiiii”

“Oh Harry, my poor dear Harry. You’ve had another episode.”

“Mmm-I-I-I-I…”

His eyes conveyed confusion and distress.

“Damn this long goodbye,” Mary said, reaching out her hand to him.

“Let me do something for you, dear.”

Harry looked toward Mary’s hand, reached out, made grasping movements, failed. Mary moved her hand toward his and paused. Harry squinted at it, reached out again. Their hands met. Harry grabbed onto it, steadied himself. Mary gave Harry’s hand a loving squeeze.

“I’ve made brownies for dessert.”

He let her lead him to the table.

His stomach was growling.

—Some journeys don’t seem to go anywhere

Picture Credit: https://www.pinterest.com/search/pins/?q=reaching&rs=remove&0=reaching|autocomplete|3&remove_refine=out|autocomplete|3