The Light of Darkness: Dialogues in Death

Of the wonders I yet have heard, / it seems to me most strange that men should fear; / seeing that death, a necessary end, / will come when it will come. William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar, Act II, Scene II

With transcendent understanding, Dr. Roy A. Teel Jr. takes us into the world of the dying—the world of faith and fate, of sadness and humor. His reality-based fiction invites you to join him in traveling the road of both physical death and emotional reckoning, with a few twists thrown in along the way.

The Light of Darkness presents a picture of death unlike any seen in modern times by offering you both freedom from mortality...and the reality of it.

Death be not proud, though some have called thee / mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so, / for those who thou think’st thou dost overthrow, / die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me. John Donne, Holy Sonnets, Sonnet l0

The Light of Darkness brings you the other side of death: its mortal reality, its inevitability, and the differing ways that all of us will reach our ultimate end. But the journey doesn’t end in the stories. The book gives death a voice in that it allows you to experience Dialogues in Death that none of us will know until we too are faced with our own demise.

A fresh departure from Dr. Teel’s scholarly works, The Light of Darkness illuminates the shadow lands of our finite lives with its triumphs, tragedies, love, humor, anger and loss.

Do not go gentle into that good night, / old age should burn and rave at close of day; / rage, rage against the dying of the light. Dylan Thomas, "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night"

Copyright © 2008 Roy A. Teel Jr.

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.

PUBLISHER’S NOTE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Published by NarroWay Press

An Imprint of NarroWay Publishing LLC

9400 Topanga Canyon Blvd. Suite l00

Chatsworth, CA 91311

www.narrowaypublishing.com

Publishers Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

Teel, Roy A.

The light of darkness : dialogues in death / collected short stories by

Roy A. Teel Jr. -- 1st ed. -- Chatsworth, CA : NarroWay Press,

c2008.

p. ; cm.

ISBN: 978-0-9766392-8-2

l. Death--Fiction. 2. Short stories, American. I. Title. II. Title:

Dialogues in death.

PS3620.E4354 L54 2008

[Fic] 08l2

Editor: Colleen Spears

Book Designer: Patricia Bacall

Author Photo by: B

In Loving Memory of Kimberly Michelle

ALSO BY ROY A. TEEL JR.

Nonfiction:

The Way, the Truth, and the Lies: How the Gospels Mislead

Christians About Jesus’ True Message

Against the Grain: The American Mega-Church and Its Culture of Control

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PREFACE

GROWING UP BROKEN

A LESSONIN LIFE

THE LITTLEST ANGEL

A DIALOGUE wITH DEATH

THE STORM

THE SAVIOR

THE LIGHTOF DARKNESS

THE SOLDIER

EPILOGUE: SOME WORDSON DEATH

Preface

When I set out to put this collection of short stories together I had only a vague concept of its structure and several working titles. The title came to me in a conversation with my wife over what is such a controversial subject, death. As humans we all intellectually know that we are going to die, but emotionally and physically it is not a subject we like to think about—and really, who can blame us.

For me the subject of death has been one of both fascination and harsh reality. I battle a chronically degenerative disease of my central nervous system, Multiple Sclerosis. I spent close to ten years as a human subject for clinical research looking for the clues that might lead to a treatment or even a cure for this disease. Ironically, in the search for a treatment I became even more ill and had even more problems, from viruses and colds that never ended, to heart problems, to thyroid issues which finally resulted in total removal of my thyroid gland, and a diagnosis of cancer (as a result of one research medication).

I have stood on death’s threshold many times, and have been given many prognoses by doctors that would make most people shudder. I joked with a friend recently that I have been told I am going to die so many times, I almost don’t exist anymore! I have no illusions that I am the only person who has been through such things. I got to know many people in my years of clinical human subjects research, and I tip my hat to those brave souls who, like me, said, I will offer up my life for others. That is what human subjects research is all about. It is not in search of a cure for us subjects, it is in the hope that from our suffering and eventual demise, more can be learned about the illness.

This fact—that we subjects will most likely not personally benefit from the research performed on us—covers the gamut of illnesses out there, so to all who might read this work who have been or are human subjects for clinical research, you have my unending gratitude and respect. You are the epitome of courage and bravery, for courage is not the lack of fear, it is the ability to act in spite of fear. I applaud you and I say thank you because being a clinical human subject can seem like a thankless sacrifice.

And to all of you who conduct clinical research and have dedicated your life’s work to understanding disease and death, a special thank you to you, for such work does not pay well, and you sacrifice greatly. Thank you for your selflessness in trying to find cures for illnesses that no one wants to talk about.

I applaud you all: research subjects, physicians, and medical care teams.

For me, the dying, writing is a way to leave a little memento of myself behind for the world. Life is pain, but through that pain we can find peace, and in that peace we can reach out and touch people we never thought we could. So I offer to you the following short stories in an effort to put a face on the Grim Reaper, and in the hope that you can see him as I do: a friend.

Roy A. Teel Jr.

November 16, 2008, Moorpark, CA

Growing Up Broken

You died on a Sunday. I got the call, packed an overnight bag, and jumped the first flight to L.A. I got in at 5:30 a.m. on Monday, went to the hotel and then to the funeral home where they had taken you. I had never intended on coming back here, but a promise is a promise, isn’t it? And I made this one to you.

The funeral director was a pleasant young woman; she asked me what I would like to do with you. I was at a loss for words because I had no idea.

I had too much anger to deal with and it was only now that I was realizing that it was so deep within me. I used to think I pitied you, but it dawned on me somewhere in the middle of the flight that there was more to it than that. But for the moment, I had to put aside my own emotions as I have always done and deal with your situation.

My deepest condolences on your loss, the undertaker smiled a conciliatory smile from behind her desk.

Thank you.

Have you been able to get ahold of family and friends to let them know of your mother’s passing?

I thought about it for a few seconds; there was no one to call. It was a neighbor who called the police and paramedics after finding you dead, and the only reason Shelly found you quickly was that she was to play cards with you that morning. Shelly has always been a meticulous timekeeper, your friend for thirty

years. I have known Shelly since she purchased the house next door from the Fixals. Back to the place you still called home on Tunney Ave. in Reseda where I grew up: three very small bedrooms, one bath, hot and cold running cockroaches. A neighborhood of drunks and drug addicts—you being no exception. Hell, you broke the record for the most running around and misbehaving (for an adult) that I could imagine in hindsight.

Mr. Tollson?

I looked over at the young woman, caught back from my memories to the moment. Yes?

Do you know what type of funeral you would like to have for your mother? She smiled at me from across the desk.

Um...I really haven’t given it much thought.

Have you and your mother ever spoken of her wishes?

Yes. It was a long time ago.

Can you tell me what type of service you want for her and how you would like her to be treated for her final resting place?

I’m sorry, ma’am, I am really not prepared to have this conversation. Is there any way I could get a little rest and then get back to you?

She stood up from her chair and walked around the desk. Of course, Mr. Tollson.

I looked down at my watch; it was 9:30 a.m. Is there a time frame that you do these things in? I asked. I don’t have a lot of experience in these matters.

Everyone is different, but the general rule is to either bury or cremate within three days of death. Here is a questionnaire for you to fill out about your mother, a little history, and then we can see what we can work out. Is there a budget that you are looking to stay in?

I took the papers from her. I don’t have the time or the money for anything fancy, so put together a couple of different plans. My mother had asked that I never put her in a box, so I guess cremation is what she would want.

The undertaker walked over to the entrance to her office to show me the way out. Why did you have your mother brought here? To Lorenzen Brothers Mortuary?

I stopped as I was walking toward the door. I grew up around the corner from here; you were the only place that I knew of. Sorry there’s not a better answer than that.

She smiled again. I understand. We get a lot of that for this area.

I pondered that as I walked out the door. I promised to call