Treasure what you have on earth. Care for those you love.
One disastrous incident can ruin the future, as you travel down . . .
Heaven’s Highway
My parents died two years ago in a car crash on Audubon Parkway. They were both ninety years old and Mom had dementia. No other cars were present and there were no witnesses. The police called it an accident.
Our family fell apart that night. I was a mental wreck. I couldn’t focus on my job. At sixty-seven, I thought it was time to retire, but I was single and alone. I became estranged from the family. I haven’t spoken to my brother, John, since the funeral. He blamed me, as the oldest sibling, for not insisting that our father stop driving. My sister, Cara, sixty-one, couldn’t handle the stress and suffers from severe PTSD. She’s shut everybody out of her life.
I had to do something to reconnect, so I picked up the phone and called John. Although John is my younger brother by two years, he is stronger and had been the glue that held the family together. The phone rang twice, and then . . .
“Hello.”
“John, it’s me Julian.”
“Julian? Julian who?”
“Your brother, John.”
“Brother? I don’t have a brother.”
“John, I know we haven’t been in touch for almost two years, but I’m still your brother.”
“I don’t know who the hell you are. Why are you bothering me? I’m hanging up.”
“John, don’t do that. We need to talk. John . . .”
The phone went dead. What the crap, I thought. Maybe I had the wrong number. John wouldn’t act that way. We were close before the accident—talked at least once a week. So I dialed his number again.
The phone kept ringing and then a recorded message blew me away. “You’ve reached the castle of John Kingston. His Royal Highness is not available. As a subservient being, pray for his attention, and leave your phone number and request for his consideration.”
I was speechless. Had John lost his mind? I hung up the phone and stood staring off into space with my mouth hanging open.
Three days went by and I felt miserable. Do I dare try to call John again? I wondered.
I believed I had to, so I dialed his number. Nobody answered. I started to hang up, when I heard . . .
“You have reached the Kingston’s Diner takeout message line. We are happy to serve you. Please leave your name and phone number and we will contact you shortly to take your order.”
I didn’t know how to respond. This phone message was more confusing than the first one, since John closed the diner just after our parents’ death. I held my head in my hands and tears flowed from my eyes. Was not stopping my father from driving something John would never forgive me for? I pondered.
I needed to talk to him to make this right. But how could I do this, if he continued to avoid my calls? My life was a mess and I couldn’t straighten it out alone. Another week passed and I mustered up the courage to make one more call. If it wasn’t successful, I had no idea what I’d do next.
The phone rang and rang and rang. I was about to hang up, and then I heard a click and . . . “This call has been forwarded to the Friendly Acres Mortuary. We are sad to tell you that the party you are trying to reach has passed away. Please accept our condolences.”
The phone fell out of my hand onto the floor. Oh, my God! My brother, John, is dead. But when did he die? And how? The only way I was going to find out was to call the mortuary, so I went online and looked up the number and punched it in. It rang twice and . . .
“Friendly Acres Mortuary, how can I help you?”
“My name is Julian Kingston and I’m trying to find out how my brother John died.”
“Please hold for a minute, while I transfer you to the Funeral Director.”
“Okay.”
“This is Martin Caldwell. How can I be of service?”
“My name is Julian Kingston. My brother John passed away and I’d like to know the cause of death.”
“Uh, Mr. Kingston, I’m afraid you’ll have to contact the police for that information.”
“The police?”
“Yes, the police. I’m not able to tell you anything more about his death.”
“All right. Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Caldwell. Goodbye.”
Puzzled and unnerved by not being able to get the answers I needed, I went back online and got the phone number for the police department. I dialed it and a robust voice answered,” Willow Oaks Police Department, Sargent Kane speaking. How can I help you?”
“This is Julian Kingston. I’m trying to find out about the death of my brother, John. Can you help me?”
“John Kingston doesn’t have a brother. Just a sister.”
“Who told you that?”
“His sister.”
“What’s her name?”
“Hold on for a minute and I’ll pull up the report.”
I shook my head. This can’t be happening, I thought.
“You still there.”
“Yes.”
“Her name is Cara Remington. And the report indicates that she was his only sibling.”
I knew I wouldn’t accomplish anything if I continued asking questions, so I said, “Thank you for your time, Sargent Kane,” and hung up.
I was wiped out. My eyes were burning and my eyelids drooping. I looked in the mirror to see what was happening to me and . . . saw nothing. I wasn’t there. I gasped and looked again. This time, I couldn’t believe what I saw—Cara smiling. What came out of her mouth blew me away.
“That was some car ride you took us on, Julian.”
“Car ride? When? Us?”
“Two years ago. The whole family was in the car. And you were driving.”
“No way!”
“Oh, yes. Dad was sitting next to you in his SUV. Mom sat in the back, with John and me. You seemed distracted. By what, I didn’t know. When you turned onto Audubon Parkway, you lost control of the car and plowed into a huge oak tree. . . . We all died.”
“That can’t be. I’m still alive.”
“Look in the mirror again.”
“I don’t want to. John’s avoided me for the past two years and now he’s dead. And you disappeared from my life after our parents died.”
“That’s what you want to believe. But look in the mirror.”
I gave in and looked. To my surprise, our family was in Mom and Dad’s SUV, and I was driving, with Dad sitting next to me. Mom, John, and Cara sat in the backseat. Dressed in white, with halos adorning our heads, we glowed, while "Heaven’s Highway" played on the radio.
John chuckled and said, “I did what you wanted me to do, big brother. I kept the family together.”
Copyright © 2022 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.
