My name is Daniel Jonathan Hall, but everyone calls me Danny.
And I’m dead.
Yes, literally deceased. I know, sometimes I still can’t believe it myself. I was only eleven-years-old when a very bad man killed me. It doesn’t matter why he did it anymore, or all the things that led up to it. He’s been judged and I am at peace with what happened.
But not everyone is.
It’s Christmas Eve again on earth. In heaven, we see things differently than everyone on earth does. It’s clearer. But we can usually only help out everyone on earth by praying. People get so upset and make very bad choices because of only seeing part of the picture. I wish I could do more to help them, but Jesus often reminds me that every person is given everything they need to make the right choices, even if earth eyes are dimmed a little.
When I died and saw Jesus, all of the pain I’d felt my entire life felt like a bad nightmare I could barely remember. It was like this was how it was always supposed to be. I was even able to see my mom and dad again. But I still left people behind. Good people.
Some of my close friends were able to heal. They’re growing up and doing good things. I get to watch them from afar and we still talk, even if I am just listening from beyond. But it’s different for others. No matter how hard I pray, sometimes even my hardest prayers don’t seem to help their anger. At the man who killed me. Even at God.
The doc saved me. When he found me, I was in a bad place. Like how he is now. I was angry, too, but he gave me a home. A family. He was a second dad to me. A second family. When I died, I think something in him died too.
His name was Doctor Charles Pepper. Yes, like the soda, but it wasn’t planned. His parents just had the last name Pepper, and he became a doctor when he grew up. We always got a good laugh about it.
He married a great lady before I died, and she was going to have a baby. This is their second Christmas with him, but the first one where he actually is old enough to understand at least a little. Little D.C. is named after me and the doc—Daniel Charles. It made me feel good to have just a small part of me live on. The doc loves his new son. I can see that.
But even though this is a time he should be happy, he’s still mad about what happened to me. Now it’s almost Christmas and I am worried about him. That’s why I am back on earth.
I’m not a Christmas angel. Humans don’t become angels when we die. But I am in heaven, so I guess that makes me a saint. In heaven, there is no more pain or sorrow. But sometimes, God lets me see the suffering of those I left behind. He says one of my gifts was a heart that could love and understand anybody, even the people so many can’t or don’t want to understand. And while I am not an angel, and it’s true that people have to work things out by coming to Him of their free will, God knows that sometimes they need a little help. That’s where I can come in. Sometimes. Kind of like what angels do in movies, only I’m just a boy.
I don’t have a body anymore. They buried mine. I’ll get it back one day, but for now I sort of have some physical manifestation of my spirit. People don’t really have a word for it yet. But if God wants to, somebody can see me and I look like a person, and you can’t walk through me. You can even kind of touch me, but not really. I don’t quite understand it myself, but usually it’s okay. Last week, I visited a boy who was going to kill himself in England. I talked to him and helped him realize that killing himself wasn’t going to give him what he wanted. I could see in his eyes that I got through to him. No matter how good somebody is at hiding stuff, eyes tell a lot if we just know what to look for.
I have been down to help my best friends before, and even the doc a little. But this time, I’ve been allowed to get a bit more involved. I don’t know for sure if he’ll be able to see me or not. I’m not even sure if it would be better if he did. I just want to take away his pain. It’s Christmas Eve, and he deserves to enjoy the life he’s been given.
***
I walk down the street to his house – the place that was my home for my last year alive. It’s all decorated for Christmas like I remember it. Lighted garland down the posts. A beautifully illuminated life-sized nativity on our lawn. The only difference is a new wreath on the front door. It complements the cherry wood nicely. At least he still decorates for their sake, even if I know he doesn’t want to.
As I walk up the freshly shoveled walkway, I see the front door open. For a split second I feel the impulse to duck aside to avoid being seen. Then I remember that nobody can see me unless God wants them to. Out walks one of my two best friends – Mason. He was there when I died. He was like a brother.
He’s smiling his usual enthusiastic smile as he skips down the steps. He turns back to wave to the doc. “Merry Christmas! Remember, two o’clock tomorrow. Don’t be late.”
The doc smiles. “We’ll be there.” His voice is worn. “Promise.”
Mason salutes and strolls down the walkway, brushing against me. I can’t quite explain what it feels like to be touched when you don’t have a body. It’s not sensory but it’s real.
He stops and turns to look right in my direction. I’ve visited him before, but can he see me now? I turn and look right in his piercing blue eyes. Those same eyes that my own were looking at when they stopped seeing.
“I know you’re here,” he smiles. “I don’t know where, but I know you’re here. I still check in on him for you, Danny. He misses you.” His eyes well with just a hint of tears. “He’s strong. He’s going to be alright. Just keep watching over him.”
“Thanks for checking in on him,” I say.
But he walks away before I can finish. Even if he knows I’m here, he still can’t hear me.
I see the doc standing by the door, watching until Mason is out of sight. I can almost see the thoughts going through his head, of when Mason and I used to go off to hang out together. His eyes tear up. He’ll never see us do that again.
He starts to close the door.
I hurry up the steps and squeeze in before it shuts.
He goes to his chair and takes a seat besides the Christmas tree. It’s the only thing lit in the living room besides the fireplace. I always loved Christmas trees. This one is especially nice, with soft, creamy colored lights from top to bottom, a valiant star on top, and keepsake ornaments full of memories dangling between the glowing colors. Very little outside of a church on earth can capture a glimpse of what heaven is like. But a Christmas tree is one of the things that can.
D.C. runs into the room. I didn’t even realize he started walking. The cotton feet of his sleeper rub against the carpet.
He drags along his stuffed puppy and shoves it on the doc’s lap before hopping on himself. “Stowytime.”
The doc forces a smile. He pulls D.C. into a hug and strokes his ever-thickening auburn hair. “What story would you like to hear tonight?”
“Baby Chesus!”
His voice is so clear. And so innocent. The night before Christmas when most little kids only care about Santa, he’s asking about what really matters. And he’s not even two. They’re teaching him well.
I smile as I watch the doc tell him the nativity story. For a few minutes, the sadness disappears. He’s like he always was with me. D.C. is asleep before the magi even get to the manger.
The doc’s wife comes into the room. Susan. “I better put him down.” Her voice is still the prettiest thing I remember. She’s still perfect for him.
She takes the sleeping child from his arms and wraps him in hers in a way only a mother could. Like Mary held Jesus that first night. In heaven, we can see everything so clearly. It’s amazing how despite being God, His infancy was so much like everyone’s. So pure.
The doc watches them as she climbs the stairs humming Silent Night. His eyes sparkle the reflection of the tree’s lights. For a moment, I can see he can almost forget. Almost be as happy as I want him to be. As this beautiful family should make him every minute.
When they are upstairs, he gets up and walks to my picture on the mantle. He picks it up and stares out the window. “It’s been over two years,” he says aloud. “I thought I moved on.” He strokes the picture gently. My face tingles a bit, a phantom memory of what it was like to have my face touched.
He picks up a picture of the three of them. “I love them so much and sometimes it feels like I have a normal life. But then when it gets quiet like this, just when I least expect it, it all comes back. And then I’m right there again, holding you, and wishing somehow you’d start breathing again. That I’d have you back. To be part of our family.”
I reach out to touch him. “I am still here. I always am.”
He puts the pictures back. “I thought I was past this…” He starts off down the hall. To his office. He closes the door behind us.
The office is so much plainer than I remember. No pictures. No decorations. Not even of D.C. and Susan.
He sits at his desk and opens a drawer. He pulls out a gun.
A sudden jolt. I never thought he’d ever even think of this. Of using that on himself. Not after he talked me down from taking my own life. Not when he has a wife and son he loves more than anything. But here he is, holding it, letting the barrel drift close to his heart.
I rush to him. I try to take the gun away. My hands slip right through it. It’s still his choice. But if I’m here, there has to be something I’m able to do.
He starts crying as he waves the gun around. “I just wish this day would be over. This damned season.”
“No, it’s beautiful.” I take his face in my hands, praying that somehow he would see me. “You should be happy about it. With D.C. and Susan!”
He presses the barrel of the gun against his chest. “Everything is just so heavy tonight.” His breaths come out almost like heaves but with a sharp silence that makes them almost echo. “I don’t know how to keep going like this.”
“No! Doc. You have to stop it.” I throw my arms around him. Tighter. He has to feel something. Anything.
“Danny?”
His eyes widen. He looks around but doesn’t seem to notice me.
I pull back and stare into his eyes. For a second, I see hope in there. Then it fades and they’re dark again.
He exhales and closes his eyes. “I know you’re watching. Somewhere.” He opens the barrel of the gun. It’s not loaded. “I’d never do that to them. To you. That’s why I don’t load it. I’m afraid I wouldn’t be strong enough if I did. But some days I want to. On nights like tonight when everything inside of me seems to be trying to strangle me, this seems like the only way to make it all stop. I know it’s a lie, but it calls to me nonetheless. Sometimes I’m okay for a while. Even for months at a time. I can get so caught up in doing everything else. In being alive. But then I remember. And then breathing burns my chest. I don’t know if I’m ever going to just feel normal again. I’ve been to church. I’ve tried praying so hard. I’ve done everything they’ve told me to and yet no matter how much I tell myself otherwise…I feel so abandoned. I just want to love them without missing you so much. But I don’t want to forget you either. What terrifies me as much as not loving them enough is one day waking up and forgetting what your voices sounds like. Your face. My arms around you. I’ve prayed so hard, I don’t even know what I’m praying for anymore…”
“I’ve been praying, too. For you to feel better. It was working. I thought you were doing good.”
I hear a clink at my feet. I look down and see something shiny. The doc doesn’t seem to hear anything.
I reach down and pick it up. It’s a pocketwatch. My pocketwatch. The one the doc gave to me on our last Christmas together—our only Christmas together. It was his father’s. They buried it with me. Even though he had a blood son who deserved it just as much, he’d given it to me and made sure it would stay with me.
I can feel it in my hands again, like I was holding it for real. For the first time. Like I did that Christmas. I feel those emotions again. That feeling of true belonging. Like everything that had happened to me didn’t really mean anything now that I was loved. If only I could make the doc feel that way again. And never let him stop feeling that way.
If only he could remember how blessed he was. He knows. I’m sure he knows. But the pain makes him forget.
I take the watch and try to place it in his hand. If he could just see it, maybe he’d remember. Oh please God, if I’m here for a reason, let him see it.
I feel his hand take it from me.
I stand back and watch him examine the watch. “But…how? We gave this…”
He shoves the gun back in the drawer like it’s on fire. “I’m sorry, Danny. You’d never want to see me like this.” He runs his hands across the surface of the watch. “I don’t know how this is here, or even for sure what it means. But somehow, I know you’re behind it. This is totally you. You want me to be happy again.”
“More than anything. You’re alive. They’re alive. Be happy. Remember me, but be happy.” Tears roll down my face now. There are no tears in heaven, no matter how much we see. It all makes sense there. But here, even those of us who have been there can feel it. The reality of pain. Like Jesus felt all the pain in all of history when He became one of us.
I wrap my arms around him. Somehow, he has to feel me. “Doc…Dad!”
He turns to me. “Danny?”
“You can see me?”
He nods. “I think I can. I’m not even sure right now what I’m seeing. You look…I don’t even know how to say it.”
“I know it hurts. But you have so many gifts. Real gifts. I’m waiting for you. You can see me again one day. But don’t waste any more of your life being angry.”
“How could I argue with what I know? With what I’ve tried? Every time I think I’ve moved on…Christmas is just so hard.”
“I know. But that’s why I’m here, to remind you that it’s okay. What happened to me was a bad thing, by a very bad man. But it happened. There’s no way to change it. In the end, it didn’t matter. We’ll still be together. Forever. One day. You just have more work to do around here. D.C. is wonderful. Beautiful.”
“I can’t look at him without marveling at him. So young and he’s already so advanced. But then I think about how good a big brother you would’ve been. How you would’ve loved him.”
“I still do.” I tense my lips. “Nothing I can say will make it better. You know everything I need to say. It just hurts so much. Right?”
“Will I ever feel better?”
“There’s no pain where I’m at. You can come one day. But until then, you can still be happy. God has so many good things He wants to give you. If you can just let Him.”
“I’m trying. I’ve been trying so hard.”
“I know you have. And asking you to try harder is just…wrong. You’re trying as hard as you can. All I can ask is that you keep trying. Maybe…when you least expect it. It’ll hurt but the hurt will make you want to help.”
The doc nods. “Maybe…” He looks down. “You have to go, don’t you?”
“I think so.”
“Are you really here? Or am I dreaming? Hallucinating. Going mad.”
“Do you believe I am here?”
“I believe you are with God. I don’t know what to believe about whether when I feel you, or even see you, if it’s really you reaching out from heaven. Or just…me? Just wishing…”
I nod. “That’s okay. You don’t have to know. As long as you believe. I still love you. He still loves you. They love you. No matter how much it hurts, always remember that. Always live like that’s true, and you’ll always be able to fight the hurt. The pain. You showed me that. I hope one day I can show you, even if it is from a distance. Then again, it’s not as far away as it feels. It’s closer than anything you can get here. So much closer. Merry Christmas, Doc.”
His eyes fill with disappointment. He can’t see me anymore.
He gets up and walks out of the room. I follow him down the hall. Up the stairs as we run our fingers across the garland and the colored lights. To where D.C. is sleeping in his crib.
Susan is standing over him smiling. “He went out like a light. We should get the presents out soon. He’ll be up early.”
“I know,” he says. “Just wait a little bit longer. I want to watch him a bit.”
He stands next to her and gazes down at their sleeping child. “He looks so peaceful.”
She turns to him. “You’re thinking about Danny?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“It’s Christmas. I think it’s kind of a given.”
“Sometimes I think about doing some very dark things because it hurts so much. All the progress I think I made…”
“I feel it too. When I least expect it. When I’m supposed to be happy. It’s okay. It’s to be expected, even.”
“I think I saw him tonight. Like, not a hallucination. But, I don’t know.”
She smiles. “You don’t have to explain. He wants you to be healed. Of course he’d try to reach out. That was Danny. Wouldn’t surprise me if heaven has him always on assignment helping people.”
The doc laughs. “Definitely.”
“Merry Christmas, honey.”
“Yes, it is.” The doc smiles. He looks down for the watch. It’s gone.
I look for it too, but I don’t have it. Maybe I never did. I look up, worried that this will bring him down again. But he’s smiling. He pulls her closer to him and he smiles. And in that moment, I know he’s going to be alright. I can finally see Christmas in him. I turn to walk away. I’m back in eternity before my eyes leave him.
A father, a mother, and a child. I said how a Christmas tree is a tiny glimpse of heaven. But an even greater glimpse is that image: the one of the first Christmas night. Heaven may be outside of time, but tonight it’s joined in the celebration of the moment love cried out in a quiet barn in a small town. Christmas in heaven doesn’t need gifts, because we’ve already been given everything. And it all started with a family.
I think of what it was like to hang out with Mason. To spend time with the doc. To curl up under a Christmas tree with my mom. There was so much bad in my life, but so much good, too. And the truly good things don’t go away in heaven. They get to stay forever. I may have to wait for those I left behind to come with me, but seeing them live their lives makes that wait joyful.
I hug my mom close and wish her a Merry Christmas as I return to the loving arms of my Creator this Christmas night. One day, I pray everyone I’ve ever loved will be here, too.