Chapter Twenty-Four Look Up, Sienna
Chapter Twenty-Four
Look Up, Sienna
As I enter Jacob’s house, I feel a persistent tug back to my old life, but the sensation retreats when I behold his cozy kitchen. There’s an enormous wood-burning oven on the far wall, and the smell of bread baking fills me with comfort and belonging.
At the same time, I’m conscious that if I’m truly dead, this kitchen is not my final destination. It must be a vestibule, one channel that connects to another, because I feel a presence, just beyond these walls, of divine beings and loved ones. I long to go to them.
Then I hear music. I can’t define it. It sounds like celestial choirs and heavenly instruments in gentle harmony, and it resonates in my soul. I raise my face and look up. “Where’s that coming from?”
Jacob offers no explanation, so I turn my attention to the room before me. Not far from the woodstove, Scooter’s familiar red cushion is laid out for him. It’s crisp and clean, like new. He steps onto it, turns a few circles, lies down, and curls up comfortably.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” Jacob asks.
“Yes. Thank you.”
I pull out a chair to sit at the table, and Jacob fills a kettle at the sink. He sets it on a burner, opens the door to the firebox, and inserts a fresh piece of wood. He adjusts the damper and joins me at the table.
“That oven looks like something out of the pioneer days,” I say.
He regards it with fondness. “I enjoy chopping wood for it, and it gives off a nice heat.”
“Scooter seems to like it.”
With affection, we watch our sleeping dog. Then Jacob turns to me. “I’m still surprised to see you.”
“Pleasantly surprised, I hope? I’m certainly happy to see you.”
“Yes, of course, but . . . honestly, I’m confused. I didn’t expect you so soon. It feels like a mistake.”
I’m not sure how to take that. Now that I’m here, I’m in a state of perfect tranquility. Time doesn’t exist, and there’s a fulfillment growing in me, as if all the mysteries of the universe will soon become clear. And with every passing second, my old life feels further away.
Jacob leans forward and clasps both my hands. “I know you’ve had some marriage trouble lately.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
He nods. “I also know that you love me, and I love you too. I always will. But, Sienna, we were so young when we were together. We were never tested.”
I’m not sure yet where’s he’s going with this, but I sense that’s one of the gifts of this place: clarity and wisdom.
“Are you suggesting that if you’d lived, we would have run into problems eventually? Or broken up? Would that have been our fate?”
“I don’t know about that,” he replies. “But we definitely would have had disagreements. The honeymoon phase can only last for so long.”
“True,” I reply. “But we were so perfect together.”
He raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “No one is perfect. Some of us get banged up pretty badly in life, and it’s not easy to recover.”
“I understand that, but—”
“It’s how we learn and grow,” he continues. “But growth is in the healing. That’s the whole point of living—to learn how to forgive each other for our trespasses, and how to be kind, and find joy together, even through our differences.”
His words sink into my heart, and I know enough to hold on to them.
Scooter is asleep on his cushion, and I feel intensely drawn to him. I rise from my chair, cross the floor, and crouch beside him. As he sleeps, I stroke his smooth ivory coat. Then I turn to Jacob in the luminous light that shimmers through the kitchen window.
“Is that why you were invited here early?” I ask. “Because you already knew these things? You were always so kind to people, forgiving of everyone’s mistakes. Is that why you were put on a fast track to heaven?”
He laughs softly. “No, it’s not like that, and I don’t know why I was chosen to die young.
But I do recognize the strengths and weaknesses I had in life.
Once I arrived here, I was able to look back at my existence and see it from on high.
You should try that too, and you don’t need to be dead to do it.
” Jacob waves his hand through the air. “Just try to look at your life from an elevated perspective. See the whole of it, not just what’s happening to you in the present moment, because you’ll judge that based on your mood or opinions at the time.
But everything changes through the years, including you.
You’ll lose people, but you’ll also gain new family and friends.
You’ll be happy and sad, you’ll achieve good things, and sometimes you’ll stumble or screw up monumentally and be ashamed of your actions.
That’s why it’s important to reflect, thoughtfully.
Recognize your achievements but also your errors in judgment, and learn from them.
Just do it all with a mind that’s open to change and doing things differently, or seeing things differently. ”
“But I don’t want to look backward,” I argue. “I certainly don’t want to revisit the loss of you. I just want to look ahead. I know my parents are just beyond that door. I can feel them out there. Am I right?”
Jacob looks away, and I’m not sure why he’s avoiding the question.
I fondle Scooter’s silky ear. “You keep talking about learning and growing. Do you think I’m not ready to be here?”
Jacob gets up from the table. He joins me on the floor next to Scooter. “It’s not about being ready. Some people arrive with hardly any life experience at all. Babies . . . toddlers . . .”
“Then why do you think I’m not meant to be here now?” I feel a bit hurt, as if I’m not worthy. “Have I not suffered enough?”
“You’ve suffered plenty,” he replies. “More than some, but less than others. You’ve been very blessed, Sienna.
Maybe that’s what you need to appreciate.
” His eyes grow brighter, and he speaks with passion.
“You also need to be proud of yourself for surviving hellish experiences. And be grateful for every second of your life—past, present, and future—because it won’t last forever.
It’ll fly by in an instant, and then it’ll be over.
So don’t take it for granted. I swear to you, even through the dark times, it’ll be worth it in the end. Trust me on that.”
“I do trust you.”
I’m also overwhelmed by feelings of connection to this man I’ve always considered to be the true love of my life.
“You need to trust others too,” he says.
I look down at Scooter again, sleeping peacefully. I run my hand across his shoulder. “You’re referring to my husband?”
“Not just him.” Jacob touches my hand. “Look up, Sienna.”
I do as he asks, and I realize I’m not looking at the ceiling. I see endless blue sky, cottony clouds, and luminous light. I feel the same warmth that pulled me out of the frigid waters at Peggy’s Cove. That warmth gave me a reason to swim to the surface.
I gaze back down at Scooter and feel the pleasant heat from the woodstove. Steam begins to rise from the spout on the kettle.
Jacob rises and sets a teapot on the table. As he pours hot water into it, I ponder everything he’s just said to me. I understand that he wants me to go back to my life on earth. He doesn’t believe it’s my time. He wants me to put my faith and trust in a grander plan for me.
But I haven’t forgotten the bone-numbing agony of my body smashing into the rocks, or the horror of seeing blood in the water, or the burning sensation in my lungs. The notion of returning to my life fills me with terror.
Is there even a body to go back to?
I bend to kiss the top of Scooter’s head, but when I sit back, I stiffen. Jacob’s at the table, pouring tea for us. I want to get up, but I can’t move. There’s a trembling in my core, a disruption in the air. I start to feel dizzy.
Jacob regards me with concern. “Are you okay?”
I open my mouth to answer, but before I can respond, I’m ripped away from him.
At lightning speed, I’m yanked backward by a mighty force that makes Jacob’s house vanish like ashes in the wind.