Henry’s pressure in his forehead, akin to a feeler migraine, remained intense.
“Grief? What does that even mean?! Like the feeling that comes when people die?” He asked as he sunk to the floor, covering his face in his hands.
“Perhaps you should take some time to yourself.” Grief said. Henry scoffed.
“Time? To myself?” He shook his head in exasperation and gestured to the operating room table, “Time is clearly not something I have in spades!”
“Henry, I can explain some, but it may initially seem strange.”
Henry looked up, chuckling curtly, “Well yeah, if it’s strange, you better not…” He pointed again to the surgery team surrounding his body.
Grief thought for a moment.
“Grief is not merely a feeling that follows death, Henry. I admit that is part of it. But I am much more than that. I mean different things to different people.”
“You mean sadness. Even you have to know that.”
“Sadness is a frequent byproduct of my presence, yes. I admit I used to wish that weren’t the case. But sadness can precede other beautiful emotions and experiences, Henry.”
“Like misery and anger?” Henry replied flatly as he stared away, his mind drifting to the loss of his father.
Grief did not answer.
Henry snapped back into the present, “And how am I able to see and talk with an emotion, anyway? And who made you look like a human?”
“Again, not an emotion alone, Henry. But yes, your experience is rare. Still, when one of you sees us, it is not for us to question it, but for you to discover the purpose…”
“Wait, us?” Henry interrupted, “There are more Griefs wandering around here? And I’m not the only one who has seen you guys?!”
“Not more Griefs per se. But there are many more effectors at work here, Henry.”
“Effectors?”
“Yes, some say effectors—or you might call us values—competing for your attention.”
Henry couldn’t make sense of what he was hearing. Grief continued, “And you are the one who makes us to look human.”
“What are you talking about? Me?”
“Yes, values don’t generally have a human appearance. Our existence, while very real, is more spiritual. You said it yourself: ‘emotion, feeling.’ Well, how could a person who was chosen to see and interact with an emotion or feeling, do so most effectively?”
Henry listened intently as Grief explained further.
“I’ll tell you how: by mentally constructing an image they can comprehend, a self-projected image: a human. And I don’t mind it, honestly,” Grief said, holding out his arms and studying them, “You are remarkable beings, and to resemble one of you is… well it’s special.”
“Special?” Henry shook his head softly as he squinted and rubbed his temples with his fingers.
Grief closed his eyes and gathered himself.
“Henry, you humans have an immense capacity to feel—not to mention an immense capacity for being either positively or negatively impacted by what you feel. All the things you feel, all emotions, all values, all effectors—whatever you want to call us—they’re all seeking to influence you toward their cause. Patience to impulsivity, fear to hope, integrity to deceit. I suppose you could call them angels if it helps you.”
“Their cause?”
“Yes. To bring you more light, or more darkness. Or, better stated, to add to your light, or to take it away.”
“Like toward heaven or hell?” Henry asked skeptically. He grew up in a religious home but struggled with his own feelings of spirituality—still unsure what he believed.
“Toward love or toward hate,” Grief replied.
Henry thought carefully about what he was hearing. He wondered if this was all an effect of the anesthesia his body was being given. It felt so real.
“Ok Grief,” Henry said skeptically, “let me get this straight: Love, or God or whatever you’re telling me it is, has a bunch of ‘values’ angels trying to make me do good. And Hate, or the devil, has a bunch of ‘value’ minions trying to make me do bad.”
“Well effectors cannot make you do anything, Henry. That’s one of the most beautiful parts of being human. Your freedom for choice. They may try and influence you. But ultimately, you decide.”
Henry considered this before posing another question.
“But are all values good or bad, right or wrong, light or dark, more loving or more hateful? What about you? Are you on team hate?”
They were interrupted by the loud voice of the lead surgeon.
“Ok folks, that’s a wrap for now. He’s got plenty more surgeries ahead if he can make it. His blood loss has been more than appreciable. It’s a wonder he is still with us. We got the bleeding stopped for now, but I have infection concerns and I’d like to see how he responds to everything. He’ll be in the ICU I’m going to talk his wife and then let’s circle back.”
“Lisa!” Henry said, his voice coated in worry.
Grief gestured for Henry to follow the surgeon to the waiting room.
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