The garage is dark and quiet. The smell of old cigarettes, grass and gasoline touch my nose. A small noise enters the stillness, a creaking. The wood holding up what once used to be life. His body sways gently back and forth.
The night is full of death. Demons which once torchered the life now lost, are silent. It’s hard to breathe. Grief and pain take hold of my lungs. I try to move, but there is no way out. There are no answers.
No light
No life.
Darkness takes hold.
My eyes are drawn to a presence in the corner of the room. It’s hard to focus. There is a man. His head is in his hands and soft weeping is heard. The weeping of someone who has lost love.
It is Jesus.
He is here.
He always was.
His presence begins to fill what once was the deepest pain. Life begins to flow. Peace fills the garage. His wounds are bringing healing. Death has not won.
Answers are lost. There are no false truths told.
God gets His family back.
Death has no hold.
The ending is known.
The Road Back Home 