There’s a poignant scene early in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom in which an old pal of Dr. Jones is shot, fatally wounded in the course of assisting the famed archaeologist.
“Hang on, we’ll get you out of here,” Jones tells his friend.
“Not this time, Indy,” his pal says as he perishes. “I’ve followed you on many adventures, but to the great unknown mystery — I go first, Indy!”
I have discovered the cliche is true, as I’ve transitioned smoothly into the old widower who talks with his dearly departed wife all the time as he walks around the house, and the other day I told Red, “Well, you know the answer now — you know what comes next.”
Is she with Jesus? Is she simply gone, asleep forever? Is she on her way to a new life, her spirit waiting to be born or already a newborn? I feel her everywhere, so I tend to believe she remains in some sort of spirit energy, with Jesus or somehow else.
I am a Christian, so my faith tells me she must be in Heaven and having a conversation with Jesus, but I have been cursed with a curious mind, and so I consider the alternative scenarios to be at least possible. When my mind drifts to the possibility of reincarnation, I think about how everyone wants to have been someone important — or close to someone important — in a past life.
“I was a maid in Queen Elizabeth I’s court,” someone might believe. “I was Napoleon’s Empress Josephine,” “I was Kaiser Bill’s batman,” or even “I was Cleopatra.” That’s all well and good, but by gravitating toward historic personages that we all know about, they miss the fact that everyone is someone important, in this life, in past lives, and the next.
Wherever she is, I do pray the great unknown mystery leads to a place where we shall meet again, when the time comes. I draw comfort from that possibility and look forward to that conversation; we have much to talk about.