In Death We Live

The story below was first published on The Living Bread of Life. You should visit this website, if you haven’t.

It is a sunny morning in Park Slope and Ziv’s first appointment ever since joining the Brooklyn tabernacle visitation ministry. Brooklyn tabernacle visitation ministry is one of the many departments in Brooklyn Tabernacle church, created to provide companionship and comfort for the sick and those who are homebound. Church members can register as either volunteers or interns in the Mezzanine lobby in the church. At the beginning of the month, an intern or worker assigns any volunteer to a home or hospital to visit a patient or a homebound individual twice for two hours that month.

Today, Ziv is thrilled to meet her first “friend,” it is what she had decided to call her assignments the night before. On her way, there is a grocery store around the corner in Livingston street, downtown Brooklyn. She stops to get a fruit wine and gluten-free muffins basket because she does not think it is a great idea to go empty-handed when visiting for the first time. The voice of Lauren Daigle bursts out from the car. Ziv tosses her hand out of her side window and sings along with the fantastic American gospel artist.

Thirty minutes later, she arrives at the home of her first assignment and presses the fancy bell. After pressing it once, a thick, coarse voice says: hello, who are you here to see?

“I am here to see Jackie Woods. It’s Ziv from BT visitation ministry.”

The door opens, and a middle-aged man is standing at the entrance. He smiles at her, showing off his crooked white teeth.

“Good morning, sir.”

Good morning to you too, dear. Well, I am Jackie’s father, and thank you for coming in.

“Oh, it is no problem, sir. Your home is beautiful.”

He smiles at her without uttering a word. Sensing how awkward it is about to get, she quickly adds: “here is a little something I got on my way to this place for everyone - fruit wine and gluten-free muffins.”

Thank you. You can drop the basket on the table. I will show you to Jackie’s room.

They leave the dining area and head upstairs. Ziv and the father reach the end of the top stairway. And he tells her to turn to the right and go down the hall. She will see Jackie’s door with a small board that has “QUIET” written on it. Following his instruction, she knocks a couple of times before the young girl opens the door. Standing before her is a pale caucasian girl with a thick body about 5feet 2 inches tall, her hair shaved into a pixie cut, thin red lips, deep ocean blue eyes, round nose, and almost shaved eyebrows.

“Hello, I am Ziv.”

Come in.

“Well, I am from BT visitation ministry, and I will be…”

Taking care of me, making sure I am not alone.

“Your friend, I will be your friend today, and we can talk about anything you want, watch a movie, read a book. I am not here to monitor you or make sure you take your medicine and all of that. I am no nurse.”

But, isn’t that what my Dad requested you for?

“That’s part of it, not all of it.”

Really?

“Yeah. Why do you seem surprised?”

All of the other caretakers or nurses distanced themselves from me.

“Well, I am neither of those, just a friend from church.”

Church? Never been to one before.

“I know it was all in your profile.”

That is to say, you know me.

“Not at all. I am meeting you for the first time.”

Cheesy, but yeah. How about we get to know each other?

“Okay. I am from Livingston Street, downtown Brooklyn, a lady of faith, student, and a volunteer in the BT visitation ministry. Your turn.”

I am Canadian. I haven’t been to school in almost a year and barely get to see the world because of cancer.

“That must suck.”

A lot.

They smile at each other for some seconds, then Jackie says: I read a lot, though.

“About what?”

Everything.

“Hmmm…smart ass.”

Yeah, right, what am I going to use it for? Her question troubles the water in Ziv’s heart, and they sit in silence for a moment.

The sun is shying its way into the clouds. Ziv’s mind takes her back to the entire year she spent in the hospital being treated for different kinds of ailments and having procedures. Before she knows it, the words slip out of her mouth: “Cancer isn’t the problem.”

Still looking outside like she did during that period in the hospital, a tear trickles its way down her cheeks, and she uses her right palm to wipe it off. Then, she tilts her head back in Jackie’s direction, keeping eye contact, and says again: “Cancer isn’t the problem, shouldn’t be the problem.”

And how will you know?

“Been where you are. Not cancer but lots of crap. Sickness renders you powerless, or at least it makes you believe you are, but you are not.”

What could be worse than staying at home?

“Living in a hospital. You get to be homeschooled, have caretakers, this huge place to live in, the Internet. There is a lot for you.”

Easy to say.

“Yeah, for someone who spent a year in a hospital, downing medicine, going through procedures, counseling, injections, drip, right?”

How did you cope with all of it?

“I got a friend.”

Like me–a volunteer.

“Like you. This volunteer would bring me books, her laptop, flowers. So, one day she brought me a Bible.”

A Bible? What did that do?

“It saved me.”

Healed you?

“No. It just saved me when life was its hardest.”

I read somewhere that the Bible is just another kind of literature, and heaven is just an illusion.

“You never know unless you have been on the other side,” Ziv turns her face from Jackie and says nothing else.

You’ve been to heaven. Is that what you are telling me? Heaven is real? That is hard to believe because no one has ever been there before except in a dream.

There is a tiny thread of curiosity, and Ziv latches on to it.

“It was my last day in the hospital. The day I was to return home for the Christmas holiday. All by myself in the room. My bags were already packed. The Bible laid open to Revelations on the top of a mini cupboard a few inches away from my hospital bed. To take the Bible from its position, I had to stretch my hand. So, I did, forgetting that the last drip was still attached to my hand. So, when I decided to grab the Bible, the drip yanked me backward in full force. Out of my control, my head hit the metallic edge of the bed, and I passed out,” says Ziv.

Okay. Then what happened?

“I woke up at the feet of Jesus in my hospital room. He took my hand in his; we walked into the wall, which led straight to heaven.”

So, how do you know it was heaven?

“When I turned back to see where we had come from, there was a door as bright as the sun. Jesus said to me: ‘Ascend and enter; I’ll show you what heaven is like.’ The way it is written in Revelations.”

Maybe it is what you wanted to see after reading the Book.

“We walked for a while. The floor is golden, with tiny bulbs of the sun on both opposite sides of the floor. When we reached a corner with an endless corridor, I heard God’s trumpet voice that shook the heavens. As I was about to go that way, Jesus grabbed my hand and said to me, ‘it is not time yet, my child. There is still a lot to be done on earth’,” continued Ziv.

Okay. What if all this was a dream? And it never happened because it can’t. Heaven is not real. Science, according to Charles Darwin’s theory of evolution, has proven how everything came to be. Dad always said to me when I was little, “nothing exists after this life.”

“Then live a little. Try new things like go to church, study the Bible because what happens when your ‘what ifs become a reality? What happens if everything you believe has always been a lie?”

That is impossible. Science is factual.

“What if facts are not always accurate. What then?”

These are the last words from Ziv. Like a dream, she disappears into nothingness. Like a dream, the only things on the chair where her beautifully shaped buttocks had sat on are pieces of the clothes she wore. Jackie calls out to her Dad. When he comes up, Jackie says with short breathes: Ziv---is--- gone, Dad. She…she was sitting here a few minutes ago, and now she is gone.

What are you talking about, Jackie?

Do you remember the clothes she wore?

Of course. A pair of dark blue shorts and a coffee shirt.

Come, Dad, see her clothes still on the chair.

They go into the room, and Ziv’s clothes are still there, neatly folded.

Come on, Jackie, what are you saying? That I let a ghost into our home? Maybe she changed into new clothes.

No, Dad, I know what I am saying. Call the ministry. Please, Dad, call them.

There is no way she would have gotten back there by now if she left just minutes ago.

Then call to confirm she came here in the first place.

Okay. Fine.

*

Hello, this is Scotty Woods, and I am calling to confirm if any Ziv, a volunteer, was assigned to my home here in Park Slope.

Give me a second, sir. Let me pull up the details from the system.

Okay.

You still on the phone, sir.

Yeah.

I checked it out, and indeed a Ziv Mackey was assigned to your home.

Oh, okay, that’s fine, thank you.

However, it must have been a mistake from one of the new interns.

What do you mean?

The ministry has been doing some refiling and updating of records these past few weeks, so I am sure there must have been a mix-up.

Mix up?

Yes, sir. Ziv Mackey died a year ago. I guess the intern wanted to assign a ‘Zil Mickey.’

I don’t understand what you are saying. Ziv came to my home today about an hour and twenty minutes ago, stayed with my daughter in her room, and you are telling me she died a year ago?

Did she say her name was Ziv? You know what? Send me your email address, and I would forward you a picture of Ziv to confirm whom you had in your home. After you have approved, let me know.

It’s been five minutes. Jackie refuses to go back into her room. Scotty’s feelings are inexplicable. He wants answers — anything that would support his conclusion that there is no life after death. Another minute later, the mail alert notification on his phone beeps.

Check Dad. Check.

He picks up his phone, unlocks it, goes to his mail, and opens the one from BT visitation ministry. The picture is there, and he downloads it. On its own, the image pops up on the screen, and there she is, Ziv Mackey. The one he let into his home, into his daughter’s life.

Scotty slams his phone on the table. Jackie picks it up. On the screen is Ziv’s face with its warm smile, dark brown and blue eyes like her clothes, her hair packed in two neat buns, full lips confident of themselves.

“What happens when your ‘what ifs become a reality? What happens if everything you believe has always been a lie?” ”