The Cascade for Life

This essay has reached the finals of Growlife Medical's 2023 Annual Essay Competition, with this year's theme being "Strong Family Bonds.

As the casket lowered and she laid her loyal husband to rest, Pat was seemingly conscious not to become overwhelmed with emotion amidst all the people surrounding her. Just as she sensed a lifetime of ongoing grief, loneliness and unfulfillment, she took great solace and comfort as she reflected on the final words of the pastor as he read the sermon that echoed loudly in her head.   



“Death is the separation of the spirit from the earthly body. It is the mightier second birth. The body decays, changes it’s form and returns to the earth from which it’s originated, the spirit unharmed passes to the new life freed from its earthly bonds…” 

As her life progressed, Pat often heard people speak about the reincarnation of life, reflecting fondly and meaningfully on these conversations. When asked about the subject, she always maintained she was not an authority on reincarnation whatsoever. She had been told by clairvoyants “She was this” and “She was that” when she had lived her past lives, but had no recollection whatsoever. What she did know is that several years after her husband’s early passing, she had an experience that had her thinking it was related to her daughters ‘second child.  Many months before the young foetus was due for birth, Pat had returned early to bed on a hot summers night as she was then a single, widowed, hard-working lady who had to awake at the crack of dawn to catch the first bus to work in her daily job as a janitor. That night she sat in bed, her light dimly lit, and with the window left slightly ajar just enough to allow the breeze to calmy enter the hot, sultry room. Pat proceeded to read a book in order to guide her off to sleep. As her eyes became heavier, she happened to look up and saw a young girl standing at her bedside looking directly at her. She would have been no older than ten, and had lovely dark hair, white complexion and the most beautiful blue eyes one could imagine. She was well dressed in a school uniform, almost reminiscent of the 1900s era, the film Picnic at Hanging Rock flashed in her mind. The little girl wore a blue tunic which was quite long and below the knees. She also wore a white blouse, tie and a funny hat with a wide brim. It seemed to be a summer uniform, reflective of the current weather. She noticed her socks were thick and not pulled up, and they were accompanied by sturdy brown shoes as she carried a small school case in her hands. 

Pat was shocked at seeing this little girl especially as it was late at night. But all she could do was smile and say “Hello there, who are you?” The little girl stood there, unphased, expressionless, eyes glazed, continuing to stare directly at Pat, before looking back at her case, and then returning back her glazing stare. Pat observant to her actions, continued to smile and asked “Oh, are you coming to stay?” The little girl smiled, nodded her head but in an instant, she had vanished, and she was gone. She was no longer present in the room. 

Pat woke up the next morning. She remembered the little girl as she lay resting in bed. But there was no sign of her or anyone ever being present in her room. No footprints, no brown case, the doors remained locked and the window left slightly ajar. Pat could only wonder. Was it just a dream? Her eyes had been tired before she went to bed. She continued to think about that little girl. As Pat went to work that morning and scrubbed tirelessly at the hospital floors, she then knew what had happened and could not contain her excitement. She knew her daughter who was pregnant was going to have a girl, and it would be this little girl who had come to visit her. Pat’s daughter just laughed it off in disbelief when told later that day. 

Her daughter already had a young son, and this pregnancy continued to be reminiscent of her first. Even her obstetrician had told the expecting parents it was too early for the gender of the unborn child to be known. But Pat stood by her word and sensed great pride and fulfilment in knowing what was to become. As it turned out, in the late hot spring of November, a little girl was born. She was virtually a summer baby, just like the clothes she remembered the little girl wore that night. 

Ten years passed, and the little girl’s mother returned to work full-time. However, two became company... the little girl would often stay with Pat after-school. Pat regularly would quietly stare and observe the little girl sitting at the table beside her, undertaking her homework, wearing her school uniform, complete with a long blue tunic, white blouse, brown socks, sturdy shoes and a wide brimmed hat, just as she had envisioned her many years before she was born. 

The two continued to share an unformidable bond over the years, one that was based on tolerance, loyalty and incredible support. They laughed and cried together at many of life’s precious moments and milestones. As the little girl continued to grow, first through her adolescent years, and then into young adulthood, she would often feel overwhelmed as she prepared to embrace the many challenges and adjustments of life. The growing girl would often seek out her grandmother’s guidance as she confided her many fears. As always, wise old Pat would take her for a walk along the beach and just like the captain of a ship, continued to steer the growing girl into the right direction. During these challenging times, as they both looked out into the ocean, Pat would simply remind her, “You are the crew of your vessel.. in this life there will always be indifference and anger, rocks of despair, waves of negatively, cynicism and the temptation to turn around… whilst it’s never not too late to seek a newer world, we must remain resilient, tolerant and courageous in order to survive…once we do that, you will see…your vessel will sail with a wind of support so strongly behind it… and you must remain strong-willed, and continue to seek, find and never to yield.”   

Pat’s tone and words remained strong and assertive, and her eyes puckered up squinting as they both stared into the tumbling ocean and horizon, before Pat would continue to tell the growing girl, “I know you will always succeed, I met you before you were born!” Pat tells her the story of the schoolgirl who came to visit. She has heard this story a thousand times before. But as always, and since she had done as a young child, the growing girl just smiled and quietly listened. 

Time continues to pass. The once little girl is now a mature, married, working woman due to give birth any day now to her first child. Whilst she remains excited, she is also quietly fearful and anxious for this birth was unexpected, and she is living in a world of uncertainty. She is not sure she is quite prepared to embrace new challenges and changes of life but knows she needs to be stronger more than ever as she awaits to embrace what is soon to become. She walks across the ocean, and reflects, just like she did when she was in the essence of her young childhood and growing up in her adolescent years. As she feels a soft kick in her growing stomach, the wind blows across the soft, fine sand as she watches little children nearby scramble and slide down and across the perfect dunes. With every deep breath, she inhales in the fresh scent of the untamed ocean and the rush of the tide. The sun moves so fast and yet so slow at the same time as it melts into the ocean. Unbelievable how fast the tide moves and changes… and in life too… that is perhaps the passing of time. The only difference right now is that Pat is not there, and right now she needs her captain of the ship more-so than ever before. 

Pat is now very old and gravely ill, drifting in between consciousness and beautiful dreams. The fresh smell of the ocean has been replaced by the sterile and bitter undertones of the artificial fragrance in her hospital bed. She is no longer buried in a sand of sculptured peaks but rather lost in a sea of tubing, cables and wires. She is wearing white bedclothes, but still looks just like an angel. Pat’s once pink lips are slightly parted as her tongue darts out to moisten them. Her pale skin is slowly burning despite the cold winter’s day. Her body is almost unrecognisable amongst the mass of tubes attached to her limp body to keep her alive. Her body resembles that of a ten-year-old child, yet still hinting of an adulthood appearance that once existed. She continues to drift in and out of consciousness, and into another tirade of deep observations. 

Her heavily pregnant grand-daughter comes to visit, gently holding Pat’s hand and quietly whispering into her ear, “Grandma, I’ve come to stay.” She quietly stares and continues to observe Pat as she lies in the hospital bed, wondering if she is even there at all. Her make-up and nail varnish has been scrubbed away as the monitoring device tries to capture the oxygen light that ultimately will determine her fate. Her silver necklace still rests around the hollow of her throat and her gold wedding ring is still proudly displayed on her finger. 

Pat is half the trace she used to be, her pretty face now hollow, just like a shell, and her body, almost reminiscent of an ornate box, stored away in a dark cupboard. If you knocked on the side of the rare hardwood box, nothing inside would knock back at you. And if you opened it, you would never know, what treasures it once had. However, this is no Pandoras box, for if you open it, no evil will ever fly out. 

Occasionally, as Pat slowly opens her eyes and smiles, there is a hint of recognition, or perhaps just the flicker of the fluorescent lights. There is a faint suggestion she is still there, but it is only brief and short-lived, as it transforms into the ghosts of a smile and blank stare. Her mature-aged granddaughter wonders if there is something hiding behind those lost eyes. Pat is so small, and again, she wonders if she is even there at all. Pat was once the captain of the ship, but now she cannot steer herself into the right direction, no matter how strong the wind of support of the vessel she has behind her. She is like a young girl who fell into the ocean that is desperately trying to break the surface of the sea, but as the kind, soft spoken yet authoritative voice from one of her support crew has kindly reminded her granddaughter before, “We can’t expect any signs of recovery”.  

For all her resilience, tolerance and courageousness in order to survive and not yield, Pat is now ready to seek a newer world as she takes her last breath. Her mature-aged granddaughter gently moves her hands aside and sits with on her bed and blows her a kiss, just like Pat had done many times when she was a child to send her to sleep. As she slowly leaves the room, she wipes away her tears and recalls the words her beloved Pat had once told her in life…  “Death is just the separation of the spirit from the earthly body. It is the mightier second birth.” She then rubs her heavily pregnant and kicking stomach... and slowly smiles…and smiles….…. she knows they will meet again very soon. 

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