"One Breath"

Just a reminder that someone is always there.

One Breath

Written Sept. 14, 2001

The old man sat alone in his apartment. There were no sounds except for quiet breathing. A television played silently as tears streamed down the old man's cheeks.

Never in his lifetime did he expect to see a tragedy as horrible as the one he had witnessed. The sorrow threatened to overwhelm his already frail and failing body.

He closed his eyes to shut out the pictures but they played over and over again in the theatre of his mind.

'God, what is happening to us?' he thought.

The grief was becoming too much now. He had see part of every war since the dawn of the twentieth century and now he was too tired to fight. He focused on his lungs.

'Expand. Breathe in. Relax. Breathe out.'

He was joined in the run-down apartment by a softly glowing gentleman.

The old man spoke with a wispy, raspy voice.

"I was wondering when you would arrive. Gregory, is it?"

Yes, old friend, it is I," replied the Russian angel of death. "I have come to be with you now."

"But why me? They," he gestured toward the t.v. and the scenes still playing out, "need you much more than me."

"Nonsense, old friend. If God can see the sparrows when they fall, surely He can see you in the midst of all life and death. God mourns for all suffering equally and does not neglect to care for those who need him."

The old man pondered this while struggling to keep the oxygen flowing to his brain.

Gregory watched in silence and stroked the old man's hand.

"We have time, old friend. Just one more breath. One more..."

The television continued to play silently in the corner, the scenes of the terrible tragedies playing over and over as the tears of the old man dried.

And all was now silent in the apartment.