The Last Jump

If you ask a person what the most beautiful thing in the world is, they’ll say the sunset, or the sunrise, or babies, or their wives or husbands or girlfriends or boyfriends. Not me. The most beautiful thing is looking down at the world from the sky. It all spreads out in front of you in all its glory. Fields, mountains, lakes, rivers, they all seem to make sense in the most wonderful of ways. It’s like a pattern; an intricate web of things coexisting. It’s as if God, Himself, wanted us to see His handiwork from the top; just like He sees it. For those of you who haven’t experienced it: you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.

I can feel the wind on my face. It’s refreshing. The cold wind tousles my hair, its smell fills my nostrils, and its noise is in my ears. That noise feels like music to me. I had always been the oddball in the family. My brother and sister wanted to be lawyers or doctors or teachers or soldiers when we were growing up, but I always came up with the most ludicrous of professions; wildlife photographer or mountain climber or hunter – the last one made everybody laugh each time I mentioned it. I was like the nose on a polar bear. All of the polar bear is white; it completely blends in with the surroundings of snow and ice. But the nose is black. The nose is in the starkest contrast with the polar bear’s body and his surroundings. So that was me: the family misfit. Everyone thought I was going through phases where I liked to live dangerously; that it would all blow over and once day I’ll wake up and decide I wanted lesser thrill from life. I thought so too. But this was before I jumped from a plane fifteen thousand feet above the surface with a parachute strapped to my back. The feeling was sensational. This is the best word that could describe it. It was like, finally, I was home. This is the love of my life.

I wheeled the wheel chair back a little to give myself more space. There was another spasm. I clutched my stomach and writhed with pain. Drops of sweat formed on my brow. My breath came out in rasps. But I knew I could take it; this was the last time. When it was over I breathed in great gulps of air. The open window helped; there was plenty of air to breathe. I remembered the first time I had felt such pains. I thought I’d eaten something bad. It didn’t happen for some more months and I forgot all about it. But then they came back, this time with vengeance. I went to my doctor who told me he needed to do a biopsy. A week later they diagnosed me with stomach cancer. They tried everything from then on, chemotherapy, the works. Nothing happened. No effect. In the end they came out and gave me a word that changed my life forever: terminal.

My parents and my brother and sister were there through it all. They cared for me. Brought me food and water and movies in the hospital. But they didn’t understand me. Not really. They never understood me, and it wasn’t their fault. I was like family anomaly. One day I was sitting with my mother and she was talking to me about heaven and hell, and I was drinking Oslo – it’s a brand of bottled water. While I sipped water from the Norwegian glaciers and contemplated my place in the kingdom of heaven, I realized something: I wanted to go down on my own terms. God would understand wouldn’t He?

And, so, I planned it all. Its early morning now and I’m good to go. I try to stand up but my feet feel wobbly and I sit back down on the wheel chair. I take a deep breath and tell myself, Sammy get your ass up from this chair and do it like a man. That makes me stand up. That also makes me smile. No one talks to me like that, not even me. I push the wheel chair away with my foot. Suddenly I was in my element. This was me, all the way. Bracing for a jump. But this would be my last jump. The hospital is perfect for me. It’s inside a thirty floor building. I am, of course, on the top floor. I walk up to the window and climb out onto the ledge. I bend my knees at the ankles and cross my arms over my chest so as not to hit the side of the plane on the way. Of course, there is no plane but this is how it’s done. The world looks so beautiful from up here. The city that makes no sense when you’re navigating through the streets in traffic suddenly makes so much sense. The dawn is just ending and I can see the sun finally peeking through the clouds. This makes the sky glow with the most amazing hues of blue, grey, orange and brilliant yellow. I smile. I jump. The wind rushes through my ears and it’s like I’m listening to a melody composed by the angels themselves. The world rushes up to meet me; to embrace me. Finally, I am home. There is a car parked right under me. As I come close, I can see that it’s red. I smile. It’ll be a lot redder in the next five seconds. I’m almost there now. Almost home. I close my eyes.