The Loneliness of Death

They hung him on the cross and left him there to die. At the third hour he let out a great cry of pain. The people clustered around him thought him to be some kind of saviour, they thought he was a holy man come to rescue them but in truth, now he was just like them. Just a man.

Once he had been special, he had walked with his blessed father following in every step, his presence a constant comfort. Now he was alone, forsaken and left to die as painfully as any of the poor souls gathered here today.

He could feel the presence of those who had loved him on this earth even if he couldn’t see them. Peter, who had so strenuously denied knowledge of him as he had known he would. Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, his scribes, those men who would complete the task he had charged them with before the soldiers burst in upon them at supper. They would write his history and ensure that not even those who had hated him could erase him from the minds of men. And Mary, his beloved Mary who had never lost her faith or trust in him.

He closed his mind to the pain, the Romans sought to make an example of him but instead they would make him a martyr. A living memory that could never be banished. They had failed to quell the strength of his followers as they always would in the face of his father’s plan. It was the only thing he had ever been sure of.

But he had not been expecting this; he had not expected to be deserted. That presence that he had walked so proudly before was now gone. He was left to die alone with no chance for comfort. He had not expected the sins of men to be so painful. He had not expected that death could be so lonely. He did not mean to cry out but the grief in his soul was too great. Left alone to bear the sins of man, deserted by the one who had always been there, surrounded by hate and pain. He closed his eyes and prayed as best he could.

His time was very near now and soon he would be on the other side. He opened his eyes and looked around one last time at the world and the people he had come to save. All at once the pain seemed to ease, the cold that had suffused into his bones faded to be replaced by warmth. He was enfolded, loved and not deserted at all. There was only a love so deep and real that it stretched on forever. He closed his eyes and gave up his life willingly, commended his soul into the safekeeping of his father and went into the safe and welcoming arms of the one who had always loved him best.