It looked like an ordinary, wooden door,
unique only in the fact that it had no knob.
As I saw him walking toward it,
my hands turned clammy with fear.
He must have seen the shadow across the door,
but carried on, undaunted.

Looking back over his shoulder,
he tossed me a small, wistful smile.
It was hauntingly familiar, that smile,
and strongly reminded me of another time
and another door. . . . . . 

It was his first day of school,
and he had been childishly insistent
that I stay outside the classroom door.
I tried to argue, but he was firm: 
"Go back, mummy," he said,
"you cannot come with me.
I'm a big boy now, 
and I'm going to be just fine."

He was only five, 
but so fiercely independent.
Much too young to leave me, of course,
but I had to let him go.
As I stole a last, brief hug, 
he smiled at me;
a brave, wistful smile 
that tugged at my heartstrings.

A moment later, 
the door swung shut behind him.
Against my better judgment,
I groped for the doorknob.
There was none. 
It must be on the other side.
To discourage overprotective 
mothers from following,
I thought wryly to myself.

Standing hesitantly before the door,
my eyes were suddenly drawn to the tiny,
rectangular window near the top.
How could I have missed it?
Cupping my eye with a trembling hand,
I peered in.
It was a delightful room!

Large, colorful, animal and 
bird posters lined the walls.
The desks were shiny, blonde pine,
and blue nap mats were scattered
across the floor.

In a far corner of the room,
open cupboards were laden
with blocks and toys.
Along another wall, 
sturdy oak shelves groaned 
beneath their burden of 
brightly colored children's books.
My heart lightened.
I knew my child could be happy in that room.

To reassure myself, 
I shifted my eye a fraction of an inch 
to expand my vision. 
There he was, his little hand 
firmly clasped in his teachers hand.

She steered him toward a group 
of noisy, laughing children,
and as I caught a glimpse 
of his eager, animated face,
I knew he was going to be fine;
just as he had said.

In time, he would undoubtedly
welcome me to his classroom,
eager to show off his new friends and 
share his newfound wisdom and knowledge.

In good time. 
I could wait . . . now that I knew he was happy!

And now, another door without a knob. 
Far more terrifying! 
The wistful smile lingered in the air 
as he walked through the door and out of sight.
It swung shut behind him with a final, dull thud.

He was only fifteen;
much too young to leave me, of course.
I lunged at the door, but it wouldn't budge.
I frantically groped for the knob;
then remembered there was none.

I was momentarily stunned,
but anger soon came to my rescue.
I began to hammer at the door with my fists.
The knob must be on the other side;
Someone was bound to hear me. 
Nobody would keep me from my son. 
Nobody.

In what seemed like another lifetime,
I had read King David's chant in the Old Testament:
"I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me."
David had deeply mourned the loss of his child,
but took great comfort in the fact that 
one day they would be together again.

I could not exist on this side of the door
if my child was on the other side;
therefore, I would go to him!
I would hammer my way in. 
Bargain my way in. 
Weep my way in. Whatever it took.

My knuckles became raw with effort,
but I welcomed the pain.
It was nothing compared to the pain I felt inside.
I would break down this door
if it took my last ounce of strength.

I continued to pound, to bargain,
to weep without response.
All too soon, I found myself
slumped against the door,
physically and emotionally spent.

Wearily, I examined every inch of the door.
It was still impenetrable,
but in my anguish, I had overlooked the tiny,
rectangular window near the top.
Or, perhaps it hadn't been there before?

Whoever had created the door
was surely capable of adding a window
whenever He thought the time was right.
I straightened up,
and peered through the thick, opaque glass.
If it had been any thinner or clearer,
the light from within would surely have blinded me.

As my eyes adjusted, I gaped in wonder.
Golden sunlight rippled through a meadow 
of waving, blue flowers, like the 
shimmering ebb and flow of ocean waves.

Walking toward me 
without crushing a single petal
were two men dressed in white.
It wasn't difficult to ascertain 
the identity of the One;
His entire Being was encompassed 
in brilliant, white light.
Neither was it difficult to ascertain 
the identity of the other,
for I would recognize my son anywhere.

But, oh! He was so changed.
Always handsome, he was now radiant; dazzling.
His eyes, almost as vividly blue
as the flowers beneath his feet,
brimmed with love and compassion.

Stretching out his fingers 
as though to brush away my tears,
he spoke with infinite tenderness:
"Go back, mum," he said gently, 
"you can't come with me.
I'm a big boy now, 
and I'm going to be just fine."

He turned away and firmly clasped the hand
of his beloved new Teacher.
Together, they disappeared 
into the glorious, blue meadow.

I felt an indescribable peace 
descend upon my heart.
I knew my child could be happy 
in that place. 

In time, he would undoubtedly 
welcome me to his kingdom,
eager to show off his new friends and
share his newfound wisdom and knowledge.
When the door without the knob 
would open for me.

In Gods time.
I could wait. . . now that I knew he was happy!

Author Unknown ~ If you know, please tell me.

When a person is born,
We rejoice,
And when they're married.
We jubilate

But when they die,
We pretend nothing happened
~Margaret Mead~

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When Tomorrow Starts Without Me