Henry Conifer was a brave man. He had fought proudly for his country during World War I. He had risked his life many times before. He was one of two surviving crewmen of a destroyed battleship. When he charged across that battlefield he didn’t have time to think about death. Twice in his life he had been struck by lightening, a feat few can claim once.
There were points in his life when he did think about dying. It scared him to his core and the only way he could deal with it was to ignore it. Somewhere deep in the back of his head that thought always lingered. But it never stopped him from living his life to the fullest. He had raised three children who in turn sired a gaggle of grandchildren for him to enjoy. But after his wife died, Henry was faced with death once again.
He didn’t believe in a god nor an afterlife and that was why death was so frightening to him. He spent the next years slowly deteriorating physically and mentally. His melancholy turned to overwhelming depression. Death seemed the only way to end the suffering but he still could not get over the hurdle of fear.
After a decisively traumatic illness befell Henry, he was taken to a hospital. And there he found himself lying on his back staring up at the unfriendly white ceiling. His breath was short and his body was weak. He turned his head painfully to look at his surroundings. A nurse was fiddling with some contraption. They were the enemy. They wanted to poke him with needles and insert tubes down his throat. He just wanted to rest but his bones were weak. He was confined to his frail body as much as he was to this hospital bed.
His children came to visit. If they spoke to him he couldn’t remember. When he found himself conscious his only thoughts were of death. He was frightened to sleep lest he not wake up again but he was so very tired. He would give anything for a second chance, not that he had done anything wrong, he just didn’t want to die. He had always hoped that as some part of the natural cycle of life he would find himself ready to accept his own mortality and just move on peacefully. But that had never come. He wasn’t peaceful, he was enraged. It wasn’t fair!
He drifted in and out of cognizance for many hours or days, he wasn’t sure. And then there was a moment of clarity. His eyes opened wide and he knew where he was. His son Greg was standing next to him along with his grandson Levi. They had been talking, Henry was sure of that. He wasn’t sure to whom they had been talking. But at that moment, Henry reached out for Levi and grabbed his arm with all the strength he could muster. The child looked shocked and a little scared.
“I don’t want to die, Levi. I don’t want to die!” Henry tried to yell but his words were slurred, not as powerful as he had willed them.
“Dad, calm down.” Greg attempted to pry his father’s hand from Levi’s wrist but Henry found a reserve of strength and clamped down hard.
“No! I won’t die, I refuse!”
Henry felt a sharp pain in his head for only a split second and then confusion overtook him. He opened his eyes and could not reconcile his surroundings. He was sitting on the ground looking up at an impossibly tall hospital bed. He felt the cold linoleum tiles beneath him with his hands. His face was wet and he reached up to wipe the moisture off of them. And then he saw his hands, only they weren’t his hands, they were too small.
Henry looked up and saw his son Greg standing over the hospital bed leaning over the patient there. He was yelling for a nurse.
“Levi, go wait outside,” Greg’s voice was stern.
Henry watched as a nurse rushed into the room and stood over the patient.
Greg turned to look directly at Henry, “Levi, please.”
Henry stood up with an ease he hadn’t felt for over twenty years. He could now see the hospital bed and in it a convulsing old man. But it wasn’t just any old man, it was his own face that he was staring at. Henry heard the extended beep of the heart monitor as he walked from the room. He could hear his son’s panicked voice talking to the nurse as she worked.
Henry walked down the hall and saw doctors moving about. As he walked, he felt his face and looked down at his clothes. He was wearing Levi’s clothes. Up ahead he saw a sign for the restrooms and ducked inside. He rushed over to the sink impatiently and had to lean onto his toes to see into the mirror. The sad wrinkled face that usually stared back at him was replaced with that of his grandson Levi. Henry backed away in fright. How could this have happened? In a moment of realization, he began to panic. If he was occupying Levi’s body then Levi must be in his body.
Henry ran from the restroom and back down the hall. His sneakers squeaked against the linoleum. As he approached the room that he had only minutes ago been a patient in he saw his son Greg sitting on a chair outside, head in his hands. Greg looked up at Henry with tears in his eyes. Again Henry was gripped by panic.
“Come here Levi.”
Greg reached out a loving arm and picked Henry up. Henry was a little surprised at the feeling.
“Your grandfather passed on,” said Greg.
“He’s dead?” asked Henry.
“I’m so sorry, kiddo.”
Henry was filled with mixed feelings. He could not explain the phenomenon that had allowed his consciousness passage into his grandson’s body. He was frightened that he didn’t know what had happened to Levi’s essence. But, though he felt guilty for feeling it, Henry was mostly relieved. He was not only still alive but also freed from the living corpse he had once occupied.
“That’s ok...dad. I’m sure grandpa’s in a better place now.”
The next few weeks were a blur for Henry. There was a funeral and lots of crying. But Henry was happy and he was energetic. He ran around and played with the other grandchildren. He played the part of Levi because he didn’t really know what else to do. But he was thankful for his second chance and didn’t squander a moment. He fell into the role quickly and perhaps it was the new brain or a miracle of the phenomenon but he soon felt as if he was Levi. Perhaps lingering neurons crossed into Henry’s consciousness. Either way “Levi” felt right at home in his new body and new life.
He never felt afraid of death from then on. Eventually Levi forgot most of his previous life as new experiences took their place. He was happy. But from time to time he would go to the site of his grandfather's grave to pay his respects. He was a great man who had sacrificed so much for Levi. He would miss Henry Conifer and always hold a place for him in his heart.
Second Chance was written by Daniel Weinell and illustrated by Maribel Navarro.
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