by Jo O'Neil
Chapter Two
The Life Review
A.M., the nickname I had affectionately started to call Archangel Michael, led me to a room in the pure white, gently floating clouds where I met Archangels Raphael and Gabriel. Archangel Azrael rushed in a few minutes afterwards expressing apologies for his lateness.
There had been a serious pile up on a freeway somewhere in The States which had kept Archangel Azrael busy bringing souls home to heaven. I thought I had once heard angels are multi-dimensional beings which allow them to be with more than one person at a time. If this was so, Archangel Azrael’s excuse was just that; an excuse. Be that as it may, I was not about to question the integrity of one of God’s angels, especially when in the absence of friends in heaven Archangel Azrael was one of the few I could class as an honorary friend. So, I kept quiet and instead turned my attention to the vaguely familiar images which were beginning to appear in the clouds.
A.M. began to speak. ‘When a soul returns to heaven a life review is conducted so the soul can best understand the legacy the soul left on earth, and the degree of growth the soul has undertaken. God was in two minds whether you should see your review, Serena, since it is not technically your scheduled time to depart from the earthly realm. His decision is to let you decide.
‘What you see before you is a snippet of what you will see if you wish to proceed. God feels the benefit of you seeing, hearing, and feeling your life review will be some compensation for enduring His Divine mix-up.
‘You will experience your triumphs as well as your less jubilant moments. More importantly though, you will feel what you predominately made others feel. This will be the foundation to build upon your Angelic Training, and the hope is it will ultimately lead to a happy and healthier you when you return to your earthly body.
‘Since you are theoretically human, and humans have free will, God will not force you into what potentially could be very harrowing for you in the short term, but what you will regard as a blessed gift one day. Considering all I have said, would you like to proceed with your life review, Serena Olivia Unity Lewis?’
‘Err . . . I suppose so . . . Wait! Can I stop anytime I choose?’
‘Yes, Serena,’ Archangel Azrael lovingly answered, ‘but we do not believe you will want to.’
‘The four of us are here to help you heal, Serena,’ Archangel Raphael added. ‘God feels the very least he can do is send his wisest angels to comfort you, for this truly must be the strangest experience of your life. All the same, your soul already understands the beauty of this situation. Allow your soul, dearest Serena, to guide and direct you through this most precious life review.’
As Archangel Raphael addressed me, I was engulfed in a shimmering emerald green light. The light radiated my entire being causing me to feel utterly peaceful and unconditionally loved. As I relaxed into the loving illumination, the cotton wool type clouds floating effortlessly in the perfect blue sky disappeared and were replaced by a magnificent diamond-studded-starry night.
The stars magnified and brought into focus scenes of me as a baby, safely wrapped in my mother’s arms. I felt the full force of her love as well as the vulnerability my existence made her feel. She was overwhelmed by the responsibility my tiny new life presented her. As my life review continued, each year of my life was played out in the heavens for me in three-hundred-and-sixty-degree film-clip-style.
My early years’ were satisfying, for as a lonely only child I befriended all the waif and strays which came into my vicinity, both human and the four legged variety. My mother’s susceptibility receded as I became more mobile and independent, only to be replaced by frustration and despair when I hit teenage-hood.
I was an utterly selfish adolescent who among other blemishes skipped school. Although my grades were exceptional given my frequent absence, my Headmistress’s sense of failure at my truancy was wounding. My mother’s distress when I showed up home late, and the heartache I inflicted on her when I told her I hated her as we argued over my curfew, was so painful I fell in a heap on to the soft cloud-carpet only to be stood upright again by the tender, supporting hands of angels.
While I wasn’t a mother, I gained perspective on how hard it is for a good parent to balance the freedom of their child versus safety. I longed to hug my mother and tell her how sorry I was for being a fifteen-year-old with attitude. My heart sank as I thought for the first time how devastated she must be feeling; she kept me safe for twenty-four years’ only to lose me to vanity.
I hadn’t told my parents I was going into surgery for a boob job. Unjustifiably, I suspected following my death Molly ‘Mischief’ Myers had blabbed the entire story, including my plan for ‘wedded bliss’, to my grieving relations. For someone very intelligent Molly didn’t have the common sense to think of a suitable excuse. If only I could get God to message my parents explaining my death was temporary. As I pondered this I realised the film had paused.
‘It is to make sure you do not miss anything important,’ A.M. answered my silent question.
As I mentally thought, ‘I’m ready,’ the film continued.
I saw an expensively dressed lady emerge from a stylish, silver Mercedes-Benz outside Claridges Hotel in the City of Westminster, the London borough I had grown up in and worked and resided in as a young adult. The valet who aided the elegant lady, didn’t seem to appreciate the teenage me asking if I could take a closer look at the Merc. Wounded at his rudeness, I muttered a profanity before superiorly sauntering away. As I watched the episode play out, a knife like sensation pierced my heart at the exact same time I cursed the man with such ferocity, it nearly floored me. As I stumbled the Archangels caught me, which halted the images once again until I was ready for them to play on.
I was dating, and obviously given my current circumstance I wasn’t very good at it. Securing a date wasn’t a problem. My green eyes which flickered hazel given the right light or the wrong mood, together with my pale Celtic skin, five-foot-four slim frame, and my red fashionably styled long hair had always been a winning combination. It was my over achieving brain which made me utterly insufferable at times, leading me to conclude; instead of a boob job I should have been hustling my bank manager for funds to pay a relationship counselor, as judging by my behaviour I was witnessing first hand I was going to need years’ of therapy to secure a loving, lasting, and meaningful relationship.
By the time the reel produced imagery from my first job I felt battered, and it didn’t get any easier. The Archangels weren’t joking when they said I would feel what I predominately made others feel. As a solicitor one almost expects a strong, no-nonsense character, but feeling the anguish, the hurt, and the pain which I had inflicted not only on the defendant who I was pursuing on behalf of my client the plaintiff, but also on my colleagues who too felt my caustic tongue on the occasions they crossed me, my soul withered at the berating I allotted feeling it necessitated my professional status.
The scenes I had been dreading, even though deep down my subconscious knew were inevitable, seemed to be mocking me as they played out in slow motion. I don’t know if it was my willpower which had almost frozen the reel of film, or whether God thought it was prudent to show me the images in detail so I didn’t blink and miss this pivotal event which was paramount in the current proceedings. I was at my company’s Christmas party with my-soon-to-propose-to-me Rupert.
I was hopeful Rupert would chivalrously drop down on one knee at some point during the evening, or if not on Christmas Day as we cuddled in our dressing gowns close to the elegantly decorated, large Christmas tree which sat comfortably in my apartment, unwrapping our presents and each other by the light of a roaring fire.
We were a handsome young couple, a comment which was made several times over during that fateful evening; Rupert in a luxurious satin lapel tuxedo, and I fitted in a custom made, figuring enhancing long black dress with a split and neck line both of which left very little to the imagination.
(This daring display of ‘the perfect cleavage’ which I hoped would encourage Rupert to pledge his eternal love to me, was only feasible thanks to the expertise of the corset makers of royalty.)
As Rupert and I danced and mingled with our social equals who honoured the stylish hotel, I couldn’t have been happier. I was oblivious to the clues that there was disharmony in the air. However, I now readily admit I subliminally chose to ignore the blatant signs that Rupert was intermingling far too overzealously with a clerk at the firm I practised law at, who was at least a couple of years’ older than us both!
My life review showed me imagery of the clerk’s jealous, dark Italian husband punching Rupert’s six-foot frame squarely on the chin, as the two blondes, uncannily similar in their strong jaw and high cheek bone facial structure, who were strangers less than five hours before, declared their undying love for one another.
I wanted to hide my face as I watched Rupert move out of my apartment the following morning, but I knew it would be a pointless act as the film would just freeze until I was ready once more. My life review was about me owning my mistakes, not hiding from them so I could continue on the same path and make considerably more.
To my horror and shame, I looked upon the red haired, nose, and eyed mess I had become, barely recognising myself not only in appearance, but in the undignified behaviour I displayed as a direct result of the fear coursing through my veins due to facing living alone again. However, the clerk’s love was too captivating, so inevitably Rupert vacated my life despite my pleas which left with him as a cloud of unrelenting guilt. Desolate, I cried an ocean of tears over the worse Christmas I had ever known, where I spent my free time analysing every second of the destiny altering night.
I watched in pity as I submerged myself even more so than normal in the work that was fast becoming my salvation. But still my heartache and betrayal wouldn’t abate in the hours I wasn’t absorbed in legal red tape until Molly gave me a glimmer of hope with the Make Me Perfect plan.
We were at present day. I had entered the clinic and was being processed by the blonde bimbo nurse. I was shocked at how brusque I had been with her. All because my mind was still whirling with terror at the prospect of surgery and Molly’s delinquent driving attributes. If I had been kinder, perhaps she would have shown me more care, and then possibly I would have ended up in the hospital recovery room instead of God’s life review room.
I saw how hard the surgeon had worked to save my life and how broken he was when he failed. Thankfully, I didn’t experience his anguish. Archangel Raphael explained this was because I hadn’t caused it. He went on to say, all thoughts, words, feelings, and actions have consequences. They all emit vibrations. If a particular word that is less than loving is directed at another soul, the perpetrator feels this at a soul level and is invariably weakened, which is what happened to me when I saw myself swear at the valet. Years’ of this abuse can cause serious conditions, as even though the body is not conscious of these affects, it is nevertheless impaired.
As my life review ended, I felt physically and emotionally exhausted, even though I technically didn’t have a ‘live’ functioning body.
Aware of how harrowing I had found my life review, A.M. placed his loving hand on my shoulder and asked, ‘Are you OK?’
I had tears rolling down my cheeks when I replied, ‘Did I really make all those people feel so bad, A.M.?’ I shamefully bowed my head as I waited for his answer.
‘Yes,’ he sincerely replied.
‘Wow! That’s a bit hard,’ I said as my eyes, which were full of hurt, shot at him.
‘I am not being ‘hard’ on you, Serena. We are simply showing you the truth here. Think of it as a gift. Once you have completed God’s task you can return to your life as a happy being, for you must know happiness was not an emotion you often felt. As such, happiness was not shared by you with others, and nor could you accept happiness back.’
I looked around at all four angels with a trembling bottom lip.
Archangel Gabriel, who had been mighty quiet up until now, spoke. As he did the night sky was once again replaced by day. Although this time the sun shone on his golden robes with the full force of the most magnificent sun-set, making me wish I had my Chanel sunglasses with me and my top of the range camera equipment so I could capture the magic of the moment for all eternity.
‘Happiness and joy are the foundations of love. It will serve you well to remember, darling Serena; you are a holy child of God, and by this very nature you deserve the greatest love there is. Love is on offer to you, but you are the only one who can open your heart to allow it.’
The silence that followed gave me a moment to reflect on Archangel Gabriel’s loving words, until A.M. interrupted with instruction that it was time for me to start my Honorary Angelic Induction Programme.
‘I’m keen to start my training, but I must rest first, A.M. I feel positively drained,’ I explained as I thought catapulting from one’s body was terribly exhausting and not at all exhilarating like a bungee jump. (It seemed humans had a thing or two to teach the Divine on adrenaline rush action.)
‘Rest; we do not take naps here in heaven, Serena. Sleep is very much an earthly ritual,’ Archangel Azrael informed me.
‘So why do people have ‘REST IN PEACE’ engraved on tomb stones?’ I directed back at him. ‘And why did the nurse’s guardian angel fall asleep on the job? After all, that oversight is the catalyst to why I am here!’ I added smugly.
‘That is a human response, Serena. The sooner we start your Honorary Angelic Induction Programme and replace some of your human expectations, the more you will understand. But I will go as far to say; sleep is on a frequency associated with the vibration on earth.’ Archangel Azrael’s response had no tone of frustration or accusation. On the contrary, it was loving and sincere.
‘I am human!’ I cried.
‘First and foremost you are spirit made in the likeness of God the Creator,’ A.M. enlightened me.
I pulled a little girl sulky face in defiance.
‘This feels like a non-truth because you have not had enough time to adjust yet. Be patient, Serena,’ A.M. lovingly deflected my petulance.
‘I am human,’ I repeated. ‘God promised that I will be returning to my human form.’
‘And so you will, as God always keeps His promises. You will return with much greater knowledge and the capability to light up the Universe with the love that will shine from your heart. If you accept God’s gift, when we meet again, Serena, when it is truly your time to return home to God, your life review will leave you feeling blissful instead of the heaviness you feel now. But it is your choice. When I come to fetch you next time in my capacity as the Angel of Death, you can choose to remain the same and therefore your soul will feel the same, if not worse when you have your second life review.’
‘Why do you say I may feel worse, Archangel Azrael?’
‘My dear Child, your soul will remember you had the chance to embrace God’s love, and if you do, no matter what happens you will always feel blissful.’
Blissful seemed a far cry from how I was feeling. Come to think of it, I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt remotely blissful. Happy on the rare occasions I felt useful and valued, yes. Admittedly, nothing had made me happy since Rupert had left.
On deliberation, blissful seemed so much better than happy. So wiping my tear stained face I said, ‘I’m ready and fully committed to my Honorary Angelic Induction Training. Just give me all I need and I will not fail you, nor God . . . and certainly not myself,’ I added quickly when I realised that truly was the message the angels were blessing me with.