A Timeless Love

    This is one of my favorite stories about love and eternity. It is my belief that love survives death, and physicists now say that time is mostly an illusion. Love, on the other hand, is not an illusion: it is the greatest blessing we can have in this world.

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A Timeless Love

Anyone can say I love you, but real love is supposed to be eternal and unconditional.

      Even though I dearly loved my wife, she said there was no such thing as love, and we parted.

      The heartache of divorcing her was more painful than losing my home and possessions in the settlement. True, life goes on but for me it was over – until the day that a strange twist of fate intervened.

      The unusual series of events began after I bought an old ramshackle house on 47th Street. It was all I could afford after the divorce attorneys emptied my bank account. It took two weeks to repair the heating and plumbing and to put a new roof on it. Only then did I have time to clean out the attic.

      An 89-year old spinster named Beth Williams had owned the house and she’d left several boxes of old letters and photos of her relatives, dating all the way back to her great, great grandparents. Scribbled on the back of some photos were the dates of 10-year reunions of the Williams clan.

      I’d always been fascinated by old photos due to my curiosity about what kind of life those persons had. How many of them had played the fool’s game of love and lost, like me? How many of their dreams were shattered on the shoals of illusion and betrayal?

      Perhaps it was my life-long interest with past lives that led me to become a therapist specializing in hypnotic age-regression. I found out that most subjects can only be regressed to memories of early childhood. However, if they’re highly suggestible they seem to recall previous incarnations, which is called past-life regression. I never believed in reincarnation as the explanation for their vivid memories, of course. The more reasonable explanation lay in the subconscious mind retaining tidbits of stories about someone they’d read about. Or people and places they imagined, all in order to please the hypnotist. As far as I can tell, death is permanent, and no one survives it.

      I took the entire box of photos and letters down to my kitchen table for a closer examination. I was using a magnifying glass to study the people in the reunion photos when one of the faces grabbed my attention. It was a young woman, blonde, at least 19 years old, who had a wistful smile on her face. She was beautiful. The date on the back was 1863, one year before the Civil War ended. This explained why there were no young men in the reunion photo.

      Another picture of her was dated 1873, 10 years later. It showed the family reunion in the same spot under an oak tree. Almost half of the older people in the earlier 1863 photo did not attend, probably due to death. People had much shorter life spans back then. At least there were plenty of children in the picture, all clinging to or standing next to their mother. Oddly, there were no children near the same blonde-haired woman in the 1873 photo. Though 10-years older, she was as beautiful as ever, but her wistful smile had turned to a look of tremendous sadness. I read it as a deep longing for someone, or something, she’d lost or never had.

      The sad young woman intrigued me so much that I set out to discover her name and her story. I don’t know why but learning all about her became an obsession. It soon dawned on me that I was falling in love with a woman who’d been dead for almost 150 years.

      My first step was to go online to a genealogy site to research the lineage of Beth Williams. This yielded lots of names dating back to the immigration of her great, great grandfather Cornelius Williams from Birmingham, England. Unfortunately, my searches did not lead to the name of the young woman in the two reunion photos, but they did give me the name of Beth’s sister, Josephine. A few phone calls established that she was living in a nursing home in Chattanooga, Tennessee so I ordered a plane ticket and was on my way to see her the following day.

      After landing I used Uber to get a ride from the airport to the Holy Mercy Living Center. Josephine was grateful for the company.

      “Call me Josey,” she said, extending her frail hand.

      “Okay, Josey it is. My name is Greg Taylor and I thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” After a few pleasantries, I showed her the reunion photos and asked if she could identify the sad young woman.

      She squinted and smiled.

      “Why, that’s Lilly, poor child. Tragic, that’s what it was. Of course there were lots of tragedies from that darn war. Excuse my language.”

      “No problem.” The attendant brought hot tea for both of us and I allowed Josey to continue.

      “You know, Mr. Taylor, Chattanooga was one of the many places in the south where a famous civil war battle was fought, and the Williams clan has lived here since the 1800's.” Josephine paused to sip her tea before setting it on the serving cart. I patted the back of her hand in admiration of her grace and style. Despite her years she was still lovely to me.

      “Can you tell me about Lilly? What was she like and what happened to her that was tragic?”

      “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to digress. It’s just that I don’t get many visitors these days and the past is all I have left.” She saddened.

      “I’m fascinated with the past, Josey, and I think you are a wonderful person to talk to.”

      “Thank you so much, but back to Lilly. There was something very special about her that everyone noticed. She was bright, of course, and she had love in her heart for everyone.”

      “She looks so sad in the last photo,” I said.

      Josey took another sip of tea, taking her time before replying. “Well, Mr. Taylor, she was sad because she never found a young man to marry. Most were killed in the war, you see. Those who weren’t killed shied away from her because she was the prettiest girl in the Williams clan. They felt she was unattainable.

      “So, she was looking for the right man and never found him?” I asked.

      “Such a tragedy, Mr. Taylor, such a tragedy. Maybe she would have found someone if she’d lived a little longer. She died shortly after that last photo was taken. That’s what I’ve been told, anyway, since I wasn’t around that long ago...though I may look like it.” She laughed.

      I touched her hand again. “Josey, you may have aged, but you are still beautiful to me!”

      “Why, thank you, Mr. Taylor.” She giggled.

      “So, tell me, what did Lilly die from? Was it Rubella? I heard that German measles took a lot of lives back then.”

      “No, Mr. Taylor, she died from heartache. Leastwise that’s what the doctor said. She was so lonely and sad at never finding her true love.”

      “It saddens me to think of it, Josey.”

      “Me too. And I must apologize, but it’s time for my afternoon nap. I hope you can come back soon so we can talk more.” Josey pleaded through wet eyes.

      “I promise to do that, Josey, I’ll visit as soon as I can.”

On my flight back to New Orleans I dozed off and dreamed of Lilly. I dreamt I was the man she had been longing for and she was the true love I had never found. I had reached out to embrace her when the jolt of a hard landing woke me. I shook off my sadness and took another Uber ride back to my office. No sooner had I entered my office when an unscheduled patient stepped inside and introduced herself.

      “Hello, my name is Lillian Chapman. Can you see me today, Dr. Taylor? I know I don’t have an appointment, but I only heard about you yesterday.”

      She was a strikingly gorgeous blonde, who I guessed to be 29 years old. What stunned me the most was her resemblance to Lilly Williams. She even wore the same sad and lonely look that Lilly had.

      “Of course I can see you. Please sit down and tell me what brings you here today.”

      “I’m not real sure, I didn’t plan to see you today. I was on my way to the market and something told me to see you right away.”

      “Can you tell me how I can help you. As you may know, I specialize in hypnotic age-regression to discover anything in your unremembered past that may be causing you emotional anguish.”

      Her sad eyes focused on the floor. “I’m unhappy, Dr. Taylor. All my life the only thing I’ve wanted is a man who truly loves me. I want to marry and have kids while I still can, but the men I’ve dated seem to be either phonies or they’re too intimidated by my looks to even ask me out. Do you think there’s some problem with me or my attitude that’s keeping me single and lonely?”

      “Off the cuff I’d say you haven’t met the right man, but we can certainly try age regression to see if there’s anything in your past that may be a problem.”

      “Can we do it now?” She pleaded.

      “Well, uh, okay. I hope you don’t mind if I video-record the session, you know, to document what went on.”

      “Not at all.”

      She leaned back on a recliner and I proceeded to place her into a hypnotic state. I told her she was now a child and to describe her early years.

      Then the unexpected happened.

      “My name is Lilly Williams and I am very sad.”

      I was in shock. I had not suggested she regress beyond her childhood. This had to be some kind of trick. Did Josey tell her about me, I wondered? I had to play along. “What year is it, Lilly?”

      “It’s 1863.”

      “Where do you live?”

      “I live in Chattanooga and there’s a war going on.” She screamed. “I just found out my boyfriend was killed!”

      “Just relax, Lilly. Come forward in time, say 11 years,” I suggested.

      “I can’t.” Tears streamed down her face.

      “Why not?”

      “I’m dead.”

      “Where are you now?”

      “In a dark place.” She trembled.

      “Move forward still more and tell me what you see.”

      She wailed a baby’s cry that frightened me. “What’s wrong, Lilly?”

      “I’ve just been born.” She placed her thumb in her mouth and smiled. “I see my mommy and daddy smiling at me now.”

      “Move forward once more, Lilly, to the present and tell me your name.”

      “My name is Lillian Chapman.”

      “Okay, fine. Now I want you to wake up now, fully rested and relaxed.”

Two days passed before I saw Lillian Chapman again. I needed time to review the video and absorb what I’d witnessed. There was no way she could have faked that dramatic performance, so I phoned Josey Williams at the Holy Mercy Living Center in Chattanooga.

      “Hello.” She answered promptly.

      “Hi, Josey. This is Greg Taylor again. Do you know if Lilly had a boyfriend who died in the war?”

      “Yes, didn’t I tell you? That’s what was so tragic. He was the only man she felt she loved. She died from heartache shortly after getting the news of his death.”

      “One last question: Do you know Lillian Chapman?”

      Josey laughed. “Of course I do, she’s my granddaughter. My daughter Janet Williams married a Chapman.”

      “Then she must know all about Lilly,” I asked.

      “Yes, yes. Everyone was told about poor Lilly.”

      “Thanks, Josey. I’ll visit you again as soon as I sort things out here.” My sanity was restored. Lillian’s regression to Lilly was not proof of reincarnation; she had simply recalled what she’d been told about Lilly. Subconsciously, she was trying to please the hypnotist.

      I phoned Lillian.

      “Hello.”

      “This is Dr. Taylor. Would you be kind enough to have dinner with me tonight at eight?”

      “Okay. Is this a professional or a personal invitation, Mr. Taylor?”

      “Both...and call me Greg.”

After Lillian had joined me at Melo’s Italian restaurant, we ordered dinner. While waiting, I explained my divorce and heartache over losing my wife. I told her about finding the photo of Lilly, how it led to visiting Lillian’s grandmother in Chattanooga. Then I told Lillian what she’d said during her hypnotic regression and explained that Josephine had told her the story of Lilly and how her subconscious had imagined herself to be Lilly in a past life.

      “Well, that’s strange! I honestly don’t remember being told Lilly’s story. Anyway, it doesn’t solve my problem in finding someone who truly loves me.”

      “I think it does, Lilly – I mean Lillian. You see, I fell in love with Lilly, wishing I could’ve been with her during her life to love and cherish her. I realize that sounds crazy, but feelings come from our soul, not our head. Then you showed up.”

      “And?” Lillian grabbed both my hands and smiled broadly. Her eyes teared up, knowing full well what I was leading up to.

      “I don’t know if you are the reincarnation of Lilly or not. I do know that we were destined to meet each other. There’s nothing I can do for Lilly Williams, there’s a lot I can offer Lillian Chapman – namely, my heart, if you want it.”

      “I do.”

      “That’s what I want to hear at our wedding.” We laughed. “First, but there’s someone we should visit.”

      “Who?”

      “Your grandmother in Chattanooga; she’s the one who answered my questions about Lilly. I have the two plane tickets in my pocket and our flight leaves tonight.”

      “This is so wonderful, Greg, but –”.

      “But what?”

      “Do you suppose I might have lived before as Lilly?”

      “Maybe. After you regressed into Lilly, I was curious about the highly unlikely coincidence of you walking into my life, so I had a colleague hypnotize me.”

      “And?”

      “And I also regressed back to the Civil War.” I squeezed her hand. “What’s more, my name was Elliot Taylor, the name of Lilly’s boyfriend who died in the battle at Chattanooga. I discovered his name by calling Josephine after my regression.”

      “That is strange.” Lillian’s eyes widened.

      “I used to think that nothing survived death, but I was wrong. Lillian, I know that love survives death, and I truly believe I’ve loved you through time itself.”

      “Greg, darling, those are the words I’ve waited a very long time to hear!”

      They kissed and embraced.

The End

Copyright © 2018-2019 by Ken Pealock