I walked up the path and entered the front door. I went up the stairs and saw that there were rooms on either side, right down the hall.
I opened the door on the far left, it was bright and sunny and friendly. Tyron lived there. The next one was similar. Kyle lived there. I opened door after door and recognized the rooms of those that I loved. They resided within me.
The last door was nailed shut. Why would that be? I hesitated. It was not inviting. But the Lover of my soul drew alongside me and started pulling off the boards. I helped.
We entered. The curtains were black and drawn. Cobwebs hung in the air. The Lover flung the curtains open to let the light in. Then only did I see him. My father, lying dead on the bed. I was repulsed and shocked. Why a dead person, why did he even have a room?
Lover started tidying up, I assisted. Afterwards it looked just like the other rooms, cheerful. But there was still a dead person on the bed. Lover explained that just because a person had died does not mean that they do not live on in our hearts. That I had to resurrect him so that I could enjoy and love him, and the memories of him.
I sat down and touched him. He arose from his sleep, smiled and sat up.
On my way out I encountered a wandering soul in the passage. I asked: “Why don’t you go to your room?”
He looked at me sadly and replied: “I don’t have a room, but this is my home.”
I was surprised, but realized that I had never given him a space in my heart.
“Well, right now I don’t have a room for you”, I said. “But one day I will. Here, use this broom cupboard for now until my love for you grows to the size of a room. It is not your fault. I will make up for it”.
I pushed him into the broom cupboard. He looked at me gratefully, with love. We both understood, and it was okay.
I left that house down the stairs and out the front door, back down the path.