Stroke Stories

Tribunal in Blue

B’H

Tribunal in Blue

There in my coma, the body at a standstill, I saw the clock come down hard and my head float upwards. Judgment had arrived. The rising altar looked like a large red dragon sign, like the one at the entryway to Montreal’s Chinatown. There was a large barricade, a Kafka-esque mizbeach in endless up. My soul separated from me, became the prosecutor of my life review story. The question is posed before G-d: “Did my life give honour?”

The judgment was an immediate “no.” I felt my father sidle up next to me and give the only defense. He said, “But he tried… he sincerely tried.” And by my father’s merit, G-d allowed me to come back to earth. The brilliance of light receded and I entered the gray of a petrified wooden body. A new light drew in, blue and solitudinal. I was awakened by the chantings of my daughter. Elohai neshama shenatata bi t’horah hi. G-d, the Soul You Have Given me is Pure. Over and over, Kitra chanted this prayer until she woke my soul back into me. I came out of that hum into a new reverie. So this is still life…

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