The Immortal in You by Michael Augros

Author:Michael Augros
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Spiritual & Religion
ISBN: 9781681497754
Publisher: Ignatius Press
Published: 2017-07-24T04:00:00+00:00

9

Your Immortal Soul

It is as certain as anything can be, Cebes, that the soul is immortal and imperishable, and that our souls will really exist in the next world.

—Socrates, Plato’s Phaedo

“Just the Flu”

My longest-running friendship is over forty years old. It began on the first day of first grade, first thing in the morning, with the first person I met at the bus stop, Matt McSorley. We introduced ourselves. We talked over a few essentials, determined that we had a sufficient number of things in common—Lego, baseball, anxiety about school—and became fast friends before the bus arrived. Matt’s was the first house to which I was invited for a sleepover. I was thrilled to learn that there was no official bedtime under his parents’ regime. I could stay up until midnight if I wanted to. And I did want to. Having no experience of midnight, I was resolved to find out what it looked like. Matt, accustomed to such liberty, took no interest in this experiment and turned in around nine thirty. I stayed up watching Starsky and Hutch and observed the clock for as long as I could, but the latest time I noted was around ten forty-five. Next morning I woke up in a bed I had never climbed into. At breakfast I savored my first English muffin and asked Mrs. McSorley if I could have a second one. (What delicious things! Why didn’t my mother know about them?) After breakfast, Matt and I and his four-year-old brother, Mikey, built something or other out of Lego bricks and played Stratego. I know I saw Mikey more than just that one time, but it is the only time that really sticks in my memory. The other thing about Mikey that sticks in my mind is that he one day came down with the flu—“Just the flu,” as I am told one doctor put it to his concerned mother. Matt and I had the same flu. Its main symptom besides a fever was a severe headache. Mikey’s case was different, however. He wasn’t getting better and wound up in the hospital. The doctors warned his parents that he would appear to improve and feel better, but that this illusory recovery would not last. It happened just as they said. He seemed to feel better, to be himself again. Not long after that, Mikey died.

I remember my mother explaining it to me. My first reaction was that this news made no sense. Mikey was alive and well the last time I had seen him. Surely it takes a lot longer to die than that. And, far more importantly, Mikey was a kid. Kids don’t die. Death is for old people. I actually thought it was impossible for Mikey to be dead. There had been some kind of mistake. Or someone must have hidden him away somewhere. I’m not sure how long it took me to absorb this strange response to that tragedy, the first one I ever knew. Matt could not afford the luxury of mere bewildered disbelief.

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