The Comfort of Losing

The Comfort of Losing

On an overlook atop the cliff, a man sat on the edge, staring into the distance. He gazed upon distant mountain peaks, beautiful in the evening light with occasional thunderstorms moving through the mountain passes, little juggernauts dominated by the peaks they slipped around. The random flash of lightning would from time to time light the shaded side of peaks, providing a show of God’s majesty on Earth.
What he couldn’t see lay in shadow below him. Not far below, but far enough for someone to die from the fall. The remains of two bodies lay tangled in the underbrush, their parts scattered by wild animals, scavengers from the forest. The man could not see the bodies, but he knew because he had caused them to be there.
“It was just too easy!”
Emerson Simmons shouted out his confession of guilt into an ignorant wilderness. Son of a successful immigrant, product of an Ivy League education, and beloved of his parents, he should have stood over the gulf of opportunity; instead he stood over a cliff with the two bodies of his own guilt staring back at him from below.
Standing a bit over six feet and considered attractive by women, he should never have come to this decision. His father had preached to his children about sin, condemnation, and judgment; he should have spoken more on grace and forgiveness. Emerson knew only the heavy burden of atonement for his own great sin; he prepared to make that sacrifice.

Laura Santangeline ran the steep trail to the overlook, breathing hard from the good exertion, and running with the confidence of experience… and ignorance of what stood in her way atop the cliff ahead of her. Laura enjoyed the freedom from a loneliness shoved aside whenever it chose to intrude upon her bliss. Like the man at the midpoint of her weekly trail run, she too enjoyed a good education, physical beauty, and what the world considers a successful life. Money had not purchased happiness for her; she found only temporary satisfaction at the spending end of her debit card.
Something about the man on the overlook platform caused her to slow. His attitude appeared out of alignment with the panorama behind the viewing platform. The ocean behind the mountain peaks glowed in the setting sun, now half obscured by the horizon. Laura noticed the slim, white needle of the Rangel’s Point lighthouse and watched as the light shone dimly at first, and then growing to a bright point before fading once again. A few scattered rain showers glided solemnly around the mountains; lighting the valleys below with the awe inspiring tongues of lightning.
This she took in at a glance while noticing the posture of a man prepared to end his life. The speed of reaction leaves no time for conscious decisions; as the man began his final run, Laura jumped on his back. The commitment made; both would fall or both would live; the sudden attack surprised the man and caused him to stumble, for a moment he almost carried both of them over the edge, but fell prostrate with Laura on top of him, just feet short of the edge.
“Will you talk for a while?” she panted, still winded from the climb.
“Yea, if you’ll get off me,” he appeared more surprised and impatient than anything else; as though she had interrupted a job he needed to finish.
The natural question came as she rolled off him, “Why are you trying to kill yourself?”
“I deserve death,” rising to stride about the platform, he left her lying on the ground.
“Usually I’m the one who decides that.” She had to keep him occupied. If he tried for the cliff again, she wouldn’t have the element of surprise and the man looked quite capable of throwing her aside in his quest to end his own life.
“You?” this with raised eyebrows and a slight smile brightening his face, “why not God?”
A religious nut, she thought, seeking punishment for some crime.
“I’m the county prosecutor; I get to decide what punishment based on the crime committed and how it was carried out.” More talk, and he appeared to be responding, ready to debate her.
“Not a religious nut, just a long tutelage from my father and mother. Exodus tells me I deserve death.”
She had him engaged now and hurried to keep him so, wondering if he had read her mind.
“Matthew’s Gospel tells you that all sins have been paid for, you deserve death but Jesus paid the price for it.” Her eyebrow went up this time; she could not help but be struck by the incongruity of an unbeliever, an atheist, such as herself speaking the very words a Christian might use to convert someone.
“Very good, my dad never emphasized the New Testament, always the Law, something you should be familiar with...”
She had him now; her study of the ancient laws had earned her special commendations in Law School.
“Your dad quoted you ‘an eye for an eye’ but did he also remind you of Isaiah 1:18, that verse should put a different light on your unforgivable sin.” She winced a bit; getting him back on the reason for his suicide wasn’t what she wanted to do.
“I enjoy reasoning together! There was a professor at Dartmouth who spoke on reasoning and used that verse to open his lecture; unfortunately it went downhill from there, no amount of coffee could keep the class awake.” This time a wider smile as he remembered the long ago lecture.
“Dr. Felton McSchwegle, that man could have cured insomnia with one lecture! You didn’t know I was in that same class did you?” They had a connection; no matter how remote or that neither knew the other had been there at the time. She could establish a rapport.
“No! All this time and you arrive just in time to witness my execution.” He turned toward the cliff.
She watched his face settle into that calm resignation, and then made one last attempt. “You do realize that God didn’t exempt the individual when he commanded, Thou shalt not commit murder. Murdering yourself will only add to your debt.”
He stopped and turned, apparently at a loss for words. Retreating from the edge; he looked at his hands, and the words finally came.
“It shouldn’t have been that easy, I didn’t plan it, never even thought about it. They stood right there holding each other and looking at the ring. The moment held a beauty I could not stand. And I pushed them, not hard… they went over without a sound. It shouldn’t be so easy…” he trailed off, “to kill someone…”
Their positions had shifted; the last rays of the sun caught him with her shadow. The monster stood right in line with her and the cliff edge, she thought suddenly. Her hair stood on end and her breathing quickened at the realization. Time really did slow at moments of heightened awareness, her clients had been right, but now what? From trying to save him, she now felt disgust, a desire to cleanse herself, and also a need to give him a clear lane to the edge. No need for a lengthy trial, he had just confessed, why not let him fulfill his intent.
“I cannot kill anymore.”
“Why stop now? Who did you kill and why not kill me too? No witnesses!” she yelled at him, losing control in her reaction to the near touch of that grim spectre. Shaking and sweating, she angrily swore at her body’s reaction to danger. She felt an urgent desire to relieve herself, but wasn’t about to drop her trousers in front of this man. How odd that she had begun to feel an affinity, even an attraction, for him just moments ago.
The target of her anger and hatred robbed her of the chance for retribution; he sobbed into his hands, crouched down with the pain of his emotions. Twilight fell at last, and she could no longer hate him, realizing that he really didn’t understand why he had committed the act.
Speaking tenderly, she led him over to a natural stone bench, kindly set there by Providence, seemingly just for the purpose of comforting the lost.