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Caius shook his head, understanding who I was referring to. “No. It was all business.”
“He didn’t say anything about me? About his family?”
Caius let out a sympathetic sigh. “No.”
“And you don’t know why he chose this? Over the chance that he could go to Heaven?” My bottom lip began to quiver, so I quickly pulled it in between my teeth and bit down, trying to suppress my rampant emotions.
“Do you know what he did for a living, Caius?” I asked but didn’t give him space to answer. “He was a surgeon. He saved people’s lives every day. He didheart transplants.”
Caius took notice of my sentiments and stood up, walked to my chair, and kneeled down in front of me.
“He was a good person,” I continued, my own perception of my uncle stated as matter-of-fact. “Why did he choose this?”
He reached up and traced the exposed, uncovered three on my face with his thumb. “If I knew his train of thought, I would tell you. But I don’t, and I’m sorry for that.”
His sincerity was shining through again, and the tone warmed me. He was being honest, I could see it in him, and there was no way I could fault him for that.
And like a lot of people in this world, I lost someone without knowing all the answers. I will never understand why he made the decisions he did, and I have to accept that.
With a sigh, my hand moved up to rest over top of his, the warmth of him cradled under my palm. I didn’t want to think about any of it anymore. I was done asking questions, and I was done trying to fill in the blanks for others.
I did not expect to come here today and experience these emotions, but I’m glad I did. I had to get them out somehow, in some way, and I’m thankful Caius was here to help me.
Celeste
Week after week, I would show up to my uncle’s mausoleum every Thursday to visit. It was the same thing every time: the small building in pristine condition, the sorrow I felt at the absence of his presence, and the rain that washed away my insecurities.
Most of the time, Caius would meet me inside the mausoleum to take me. To strip me down to nothing, to feel my skin on his, and to join us as one.
And sometimes, I would find myself wandering up to his front door, wanting to see himbeforefeeling that grief. I wanted my body to feel the pleasure he gave me before it felt the sorrow buried inside. He would meet me at the door and guide me to the hidden room in the greenhouse, where he would then take me, claim me.
Then, I began to show up on Sundays after Mass, because the words and teachings there had my head confused, and I needed clarity in Purgatory. And then I started to visit on Tuesdays after work, just because it was convenient.
And then… I showed up whenever I felt like it. With no justification needed.
But in my visits, I still protected myself. I was always gone and home before sundown.
In a sense, Caius helped me heal. His distraction from the loss pushed me into a healthier state of mind, one that looked at the death in a different light.
Uncle Russ was gone, but in that inevitable fact, he got to choose his next life.
Somewhere along those lines, I couldn’t help it. Things were switching for me.
My views, my opinions, my outlook.
One year ago, I would’ve never agreed with any of this. I would’ve laughed, rolled my eyes, whatever. But now that I’ve seen the love behind it all, the freedom it gives to those who fear the afterlife, and the power in peace, there’s a part of me that will always stand behind it.
But a small, nagging part of me will always wonder what else is out there.
If there’s Purgatory, then of course there’s Hell.
But there’s also Heaven.
And wouldn’t that be better than this?
Ace met me at the front door the second I stepped inside. “Hey,” he whispered, his hand to his lips. “Caius is with someone.”
“Another meeting?” I asked, matching his hushed tone. “Didn’t he just have one yesterday?”
