what lies beyond

Barnies Cafe, Westmoreland Street, Dublin.
Car lights swirling by the window towards O'Connell Street bridge.
The litterati, the glitterati and the teenage-scenti chattering at the surrounding tables.
I reached for a newspaper.
Suddenly my world dissolved into a sea of pain.
I was still sitting. Nothing had happened. I hadn't fallen. No one had hit me. But all I was conscious of was pain.
I didn't feel fear.
At once I knew what it was.
Last week some one from my former employers in the west of Ireland, rang to say one of the bosses was dying.
I had reacted with indifference.
In fact I had turned to God and said: "I can't pray for him. I don't care at all what happens to him."
And now in the cafe by an ordinance of heaven, I'd been given a moment to know just what he was going through.
The pain radiated from my chest and engulfed the rest of me.
Still I was unafraid. Still calm. God wasn't terrorising me. He hadn't threatened me. I do not even believe my earlier prayer had displeased him. But he had answered me by showing me something of what was at stake.
It wasn't nice though. I've never felt anything like it.
I sat amid the evening crowd unnoticed by them and in agony. Once more I addressed the creator of the universe.
"Alright I understand," I said. "I couldn't wish this on anyone."