Chapter Four: The ‘Fun’ In Funeral

Maxwell woke up, and took a deep breath. The breath came easily and smoothly. His first thought was relief. He hadn't been able to take an easy breath since...

Since when?

Max opened his eyes and sat up. He was indoors. He was wearing a simple white outfit. Tunic and trousers. He had shoes, but they weren't anything like he recognized. Had they moved him to a new ward? The door opened, and in walked a familiar face. "Rachel?"

"Welcome back." His former Bible study smiled at him, tears rolling down her cheeks softly. "You almost made it, Max. You came so close."

And then it hit him. "I... I died?"

"In your sleep. Took all of us by surprise." Rachel sat down beside him.

Max reached out and gave her a tight hug. One that she had no trouble returning. "Is this a dream?" He whispered.

"We all wondered the same thing at first." Rachel laughed. "I mean, you've been waiting for this for the majority of your life, but so was everyone else in the Cong, and we were waiting for months before it sank in that this was really happening." She waved back at the door. "I mean, you just never expect to see that, y'know?"

Max was expecting to panic, but he wasn't. His heart wasn't racing, his mind wasn't reeling... It was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to him, and he was filled with a sense of total peace. "Where's Amelia?"

Rachel winced. "She's outside. She..." Rachel looked down. "She never forgave herself."

"Still?"

"Still? You died, Max. How was she supposed to make peace with that?" Rachel nodded. "I'm just saying, you guys battle your way through her lung cancer all the way to her winning the fight, and then twenty years of secondhand smoke get her husband instead, decades after she quit?"

Maxwell sighed. "I never blamed her. And now, of all times..."

"I know."

Maxwell bit his lip. "How long?"

"Less than a year since you... left. Six months since the Big Day. Not long enough to get over the guilt." Rachel smiled. "Like I said, you almost made it."

Maxwell was up instantly. "Less than a year? That soon?"

"I don't know who the last JW to die before the whole thing started was, but it turns out there's an order to the Resurrections." Rachel pulled out her Device. "The Scriptures we had then weren't entirely specific on the order, but Jesus made a point of saying that there would be a return of 'both the Righteous and the Unrighteous'."

"In that order?"

"Well, it makes sense, doesn't it? Faithful brothers who died last? They'll have the shortest learning curve. You were telling me about brothers you knew, who died a decade before A-Day. They'll have no idea about the Lit Carts, or JW Broadcasting... You do. So when the earlier ones come back, there'll be plenty of people here who know what's going on. Consider it the pay off. Live faithful, and you get some time in paradise before anyone else gets there."

(Author's Note: There's no specific word on the order of the Resurrection. The closest reference I could find is in a 1998 Watchtower 7/1 p. 23 par. 16: "If all were to return to life simultaneously, it would be impossible to care for them adequately. It is reasonable to assume that the resurrection will take place progressively. Faithful Christians who died shortly before the end of Satan's system will likely be among the first ones raised. We can also expect an early resurrection for the faithful men of old who will serve as 'princes.' The following paragraph opens with: "Nevertheless, we should not be dogmatic on such matters. On many issues the Bible is silent. It does not spell out the details of how, when, or at what locations the resurrection of individuals will occur."

That's rather the purpose of this entire book series. Not to tell how it will be, but to imagine how it might be so, and how wonderful it will be. For purposes of this story, I chose this route.)

"So I'm... early?"

"Resurrections started a week ago. They're happening slowly right now, but everyone expects them to accelerate as we go." Rachel told him. "And by the way, there's a 'funeral' arranged in your honor for tonight." She kissed his cheek and headed for the door. She paused and looked back at him. "Really glad to have you back, Max." She hesitated. "Um, I never thanked you. For bringing me in."

"You became a Witness because you wanted a personal relationship with God. There was very little I did compared to that." Maxwell assured her. "And if I'm honest... Once you found the website, I had no hope of keeping up with you."

Rachel smiled. "Amelia said the same thing."

He handed the phone back to her, still displaying the scripture she had shown him. "Still using these, huh?"

"We still had them when it all ended. The thing is, they're starting to wear out. Charging them up again was easy enough to rig. But they were practically designed to start failing after a few years. Kept us coming back for new ones. I don't know who's in charge of-" She stopped herself when she saw his face. "But you have other things on your mind."

"I do." He said politely.

"I'll send Amelia in."

Max called her back briefly. "Rachel?" He said. "I never saw you get baptized. Last I remember, your beau Jacques was forcing you to choose between him and what you were studying... If it was that close... I'm really glad to know you're here too."

Rachel wiped a tear away as she left, and Maxwell moved to the window. He was moving so smoothly, compared to before. In fact, his joints hadn't been this loose in longer than he could remember. His condition had never been ideal; but that was just aging. He'd deteriorated so fast that the last weeks he could remember, he'd needed a walking frame and an oxygen tank to make it to the bathroom.

The view outside was of a nice day. He didn't recognize anything about the place. It was a village, or at least it looked like one. There was a plaza, surrounded by small buildings, which he recognized as quick-builds. There was no litter. He could see carts set up full of fruit and veg, and another filled with baked goods, breads and cakes. He could see people outside, taking one or two bites of food with them as they passed by on their tasks. All of them were sneaking a peek at the bungalow he was in.

Because they know I'm in here. He realized. They haven't seen a resurrection before...

Trembling a bit, Maxwell closed his eyes. Jehovah God... am I dreaming?

"Max?"

He turned to the door, and found his wife in the doorway, tears rolling down her face. That, more than anything, made it seem real to Maxwell. He had only just said goodnight to her.

Amelia was just as he remembered her, but standing straighter. Her hair was still grey, and her skin still wrinkled, but her eyes had lost that stressed, exhausted look that everyone in the Hospital seemed to have. In fact, now that he looked at her, she seemed less burdened than ever. Her eyes had lost that foggy look that had come in her late seventies. They were sharp and clear... and filled with tears.

She was holding onto the doorframe, like she wasn't sure she should come in. "I didn't blubber this much when you..." She choked out.

"When I died?" Maxwell finished the sentence for her. "I'm still not sure if I'm dreaming."

She came in and hugged him tightly. "I wondered the same thing when I was told today was the day. I feel ever so slightly selfish for having you come back so soon. There are no shortage of widows, checking the lists every other hour."

He hugged her back tightly. "Well. If this is a dream, I'll wake up eventually; and I'll kick myself for not going further than this room."

Amelia laughed and took his hand. "Well, there's a Reception for you tonight. The kids are all here. Rachel too, as well as Patricia and Kiiro, and three of the others we studied with."

"Three?" Maxwell pulled back. "Who didn't make it?"

Amelia winced. "Tomorrow. Tonight's about you, love."

~~/*\~~

Maxwell was catching up on the year that he had missed. He had taken a walk with Amelia, the two of them comparing notes. She had given him her account of everything that had happened, starting with his death, and ending with his return that morning.

"Things are in a bit of a limbo now." Amelia summed up. "We've more or less abandoned the cities. There's just... nothing back there for us. See, when the whole thing started, the churches and the temples had their wealth seized. That was enough to pay off the entire Third World Debt, but there was a hell of a fight over who got to keep the money. There was a lot less fighting than people expected, save the hardcore believers, and the war they waged with each other was almost as bad. But what sent the world into chaos was what happened after that. The Religions had more workers and properties and shareholdings than any other private groups in the world. With all of them gone, it was like watching dominoes fall. The economy tanked, the shipping went after it, and then all hell broke loose. There were running gunfights in every supermarket for a while, food riots all over the place... The cities were wrecked and picked clean long before it ended. And we don't really need them any more."

"How did our people do?"

"The Society owned very little property, no shares in anything, no political presence... We were actually the least affected group in the whole thing. Our workers were all volunteers, the Bethels paid people in food and board, a lot of them self-sufficient, if a little sparse..." She smiled. "Rachel did the numbers, and figures in about forty years, the cities will be swept clean by nature. Less, if God helps that process along."

Max was about to press for more details, when he noticed people waving. "Do I know them?"

"No, but they knew you were coming. They're preparing food for tonight. Can't have a party without a feast." Amelia smiled. "They say the Returning will start slowly and accelerate as more people arrive to set things up. Right now, it's a trickle of the 'last coming first'."

Maxwell ran a hand through his thin white hair. "I have to admit, I didn't give much thought to how I'd look, but..."

"Rachel has been working out a schedule on that too, believe it or not." Amelia commented. "You remember Brother Richmond? Well, after it happened, he admitted that he started dyeing his hair six months before A-Day. He didn't need the dye again six months after."

"Six months on either side..." Maxwell mused. "So the idea is that we're aging backwards at the same speed?"

"Right. Not that it matters. Age is just cosmetic. Health problems are over; great and small." Amelia told him. "I haven't felt this good since our third anniversary."

"Me neither." Maxwell put his arms around her waist and kissed her passionately. "Appearances aside, I feel like a young man again."

She pulled back a bit. "About that. We aren't... actually married any more." She saw the hurt look on his face and quickly explained. "Turns out the vows are very specific. In particular, the point about 'for as long as we both shall live'."

Maxwell scoffed. "Well. I can see the point, I suppose. They're planning ahead for the days when everyone else comes back. The Sultans and their fifty wives, or the kids in arranged marriages far too young..."

"Exactly. A lot of things are declared null and void when we die. It's not always easy to bring them all back as fast as you did." Amelia bit her lip. "There is provision set up for... I mean, your 'Welcome Back' party is tonight in the Reception Hall, but there's no reason we couldn't elope right now. Consider it 'renewing our vows'. A few who came back before you made it their first priority, but if you wanted to wait..."

"Why would I wait?"

Amelia winced. "Love... Remember Jacob Chalkin? With the two tin legs? He was married to a woman who worked as a hospital nurse. He confided in us once that he was always leery about marrying someone 'in his condition', but with her it was easier because he knew she saw worse every day, and could handle it. But now he's here, and his legs are flesh and blood, and his late wife hasn't returned yet, and... He's gone dancing, Max. Every night. None of us have said anything, but he's got a regular dance partner now. I'll give you two guesses who."

"Karen?" Maxwell was surprised. "She made it through?"

"We all knew he would have married Karen years ago if he hadn't lost his legs." Amelia nodded. "Life took him down a different path, and he and his actual bride were happy but... Things changed when he got his legs back, and Karen was here. When his 'nurse' comes back from the grave, he may already be..." Amelia looked down. "And you only got cancer because of me. I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to hold off and-"

He kissed her immediately. "We spent over sixty years together. Forty of them dreaming of this world. All those things we promised we'd do in the New System, we never once talked about doing them without each other."

Amelia looked up at him with a small smile. "Well... Nobody's expecting us until tonight." She reached into her pockets and pulled out a small box. "The brothers told us to leave everything and run for the Halls. But I did keep one thing."

Maxwell took the small box, opened it, and found a necklace chain with two battered wedding bands looped through it.

~~/*\~~

"Brothers and Sisters, we are here today to commemorate the life, the death, and the return of brother Maxwell Atwood."

There was a round of applause. The 'Funeral' was held in a Reception Hall. The guest of honor was at the head of the room at the Main Table, with his once-and-again wife beside him, beaming, and their kids in the front row. Behind them were their students, the members of the congregation that had studied with Maxwell.

"Ecclesiastes 7:1 says: ‘A name is better than good oil, and the day of death than the day of one's being born.' Part of the reason we never celebrated birthdays is because at birth, we have no merits, no good works to celebrate. At death, our reputation and our standing before God is made static, certain. And now, in this wonderful new world, those merits are made manifest. For all those who have read an obituary in a newspaper and wondered what people will say about you when you're gone, at last you have an answer. A legacy that you can be there for!"

Polite applause. This part was routine. The important part was about to begin. The Speaker was an Elder from The Atwood's own congregation, and had been a friend for more than forty years. He had tears in his eyes as he began telling the story. "Almost everyone in the Congregation knows Max. We're lucky to have him back so soon. And as much as I can keep talking for the next several hours, I'm only the Emcee tonight. We all have experiences to share involving Max, and what he did for the cause. So, I'm lucky enough to have the floor first, but there'll be plenty more behind me."

There was another round of applause. This one eager. Max looked over the faces of his friends, and wondered which of them would speak first.

"Now, Max hates it when anyone makes a fuss over him, so this is going to be quite a night for him." The Speaker continued, and the audience chuckled grandly. "But speaking for myself, my strongest memory of Max was a day in the field. He and I were working together, and we noticed a cab pull up, and the man who had called for the cab left his house to get to it. The man in question, incidentally, had pretended he wasn't home when we knocked a few minutes before." A knowing chuckle went around the room at that. "Max was walking toward the cab instantly. I followed along and asked him why, since we were due to open up the hall for the afternoon group soon. He said that he couldn't explain it, but he just knew he had to talk to the man in the cab. There wasn't room for both of us, but somehow, Max had convinced the man to split the cab with him, for half the fare. I went to the hall and waited for him to catch up. Well, Max pulls up in a cab almost half an hour later, and I get the whole story. The householder listened while Max talked, until they reached his destination. At that point, the guy sneers that he only let Max in for a free cab ride, and he was pretty brutal about it once he got out of the cab. Max sighs, and pays the driver, then asks to be taken to the hall, and the Driver promptly turns around and asks for a Bible study."

There was a round of applause, and good natured cheering. It was an age of miracles, but the time being described was not.

"Max, I don't know if your eyes are that good again yet, but you may recognize the man in the third row. He hasn't driven a cab in quite a while, but he remembers you."

From the third row, a man stood up with tears in his eyes and waved to Max, who didn't hesitate to wave back. Another round of applause rang out, and lasted quite a while.

"I could go on for hours, but there are plenty of others with stories to share, and of course, the Keynote Speaker. I think we can safely assume he'll be on time."

Maxwell didn't know what that meant, but based on the laugh that went around the room, everyone else did.

David was next. "Most of you know this, but back in the old Days, I was blind. And this was in the days after the gramophone records, but before technology gave us the Broadcasts every month. My ministry was fairly small, and study was difficult... Because I was blinded in an accident. I had met Max only twice. We had one study together, and then I was trying to learn Braille. Max never pushed. He came back every week, and never pushed having a second study. He knew I wasn't in the right place for it. But he kept coming back. And then, one day, he started reading to me." He turned to the dais. "Remember, Max?"

Maxwell nodded, tears in his eyes.

David was tearing up too. "You'd think it would be the verse about 'eyes being opened', but it wasn't. Max read to me from the Psalms. All about the support and endurance that a loving God offers. If you've ever seen a braille version of the New World Translation, you know it's not exactly pocket sized. And if I'm honest... I started the Bible on page one, and when I hit Leviticus, I lost the will to live; let alone keep reading, slow and bumbling as I was." David turned to Maxwell. "Max, I remembered your face entirely wrong. But... You taught me to read. Back then, they were putting out publications faster than the braille versions could keep up, and every time something new came out, Max would bring a copy over, and read to me. I was a teenager at the time, and my family was glad to have a free babysitter, given the extra expense of having a disabled son. But just so you know, it would have been easy for Max to cut me loose. I told him point blank that I had other things on my mind than having a second session studying a book I couldn't read. But he never gave up on me. And here I am."

Warm applause rang out as David went over and gave his returned friend a hug.

And so it went for almost an hour, people in the congregation coming up and sharing their experiences. Often-told stories and secret, heartfelt revelations. By the end of the hour, everyone in the room was wiping tears away, still smiling, still laughing, still rejoicing.

And then the next speaker arrived. He didn't come in the room, he just.. appeared, at the podium. He had wings.

Maxwell was glad he was sitting down, or he would have fallen flat.

"We rejoice with you, Brother Maxwell Atwood. For many years, your Father rejoiced more over the redemption of the wicked than the steadiness of the faithful. But now the faithful are all that remain; and your King has sent me to deliver a message to you." The Angel turned to Maxwell directly, though the whole room heard it. "He has waited a long time for this moment. He wants you to know that he's so proud of you, and the work you did. Despite all the trials, all the difficulties and all the weaknesses and terrors that the enemy threw in your path, your heart stayed true to him, even when your imperfections did not. For every mistake you made, your heart stayed true to Jehovah God, and the love you showed was the greatest justification for your name to be remembered with honor. He heard every prayer you made in your most desperate moments. Before you came to Him, when you concluded He couldn't possibly exist, still you raged at Him when your father died."

Max let out a sob.

"Shh." The angel soothed. "He wants you to know that He would have given much to take every thorn from your flesh, and every heartbreak away. But the cause was just, and the delay was necessary. He was counting the seconds until he could bring his faithful friends into the world He always wished for you; and even without having seen, you believed. What more could one ask of a friend?"

There was a round of applause at that. The Angel came over and rested his hands on Maxwell's shoulders. The Returned brother looked ready to fall down at the proximity, but he kept his eyes focused as the spirit creature leaned forward and looked intently into the man's eyes. "Welcome to the world you always should have had. Every moment of endurance will be repaid with a thousand moments of bliss. Every tear will be repaid with joy. You worked hard for the Truth, and for your father in heaven. He remembers every moment of doubt that you overcame. Moments that even your family didn't know about. But you will be recompensed for your efforts a hundred fold." The angel said warmly. "Well Done, good and faithful servant. Because you were faithful in your small way, you will be rewarded in a large way. Enter into the joy of your Master."

The Angel faded, leaving Max flat out weeping, with a huge smile on his face. It was a smile shared by everyone in the room.

The Emcee stepped up to the podium, wiping some tears away. "Max, there's nobody in the room that could top that, but even so: Welcome Home. If there's something you would like to say..."

Max rose. Emotional as he was, he was still moving smoother than ever. He made his way to the microphone. "Um... Wow." He thought for a moment. "Well, first of all, I can't tell you how glad I am that you're all here. Everyone in the front row, I can think of no greater joy than seeing my students, and my children here, forever young." He gestured to the familiar young woman on the end of the row. "Rachel, I remember studying with you, and you mentioned that what you were learning made sense. I remember you saying that the way you tell truth from lies is to investigate, and the truth just makes more and more sense the deeper you get into it. I think... I think that the more time we spend in this world, the more sense it will make to us, because this is where we were always meant to be. So..." He searched for words. "It's good to be home with my family."

The whole room came to their feet, cheering and applauding. The proceedings over, the audience all came over, lining up to embrace the guest of honor. Max didn't let go of his wife the entire time, overwhelmed. Amelia read her husband instantly and sent a look to Rachel. The younger woman gave her a nod and started directing people to the tables of food, set up at the other end of the Reception Hall.

~~/*\~~

After a while, the crowd stopped pressing in, and Rachel pulled Maxwell into a smaller room. "How you holding up?"

"I'm thrilled to see everyone of course, I just..."

"I know." Rachel hugged him again. "This is my third 'funeral', and they just get more and more... intense." She shrugged. "In a good way, but..."

"Yeah." Maxwell nodded. "I'd like to talk to everyone, but... maybe not all at once. Remember, I haven't been looking forward to this the way Amelia has. For me, I was in a hospital bed, decided to take a nap, and woke up here; this morning. Part of me is still convinced I'm dreaming."

"You should have seen the first week. We held a bonfire with all the crutches, walking sticks, wheelchairs… We're new at this too." Rachel reminded him. "The New World is six months old. We're still building dormitories for everyone... and the Resurrection is less than two weeks in. We're still learning the rules. It might be worth mentioning to someone that we should hold off on throwing the 'welcome back' for a few days, let the guests of honor get acclimated."

"Mention it to who?" Maxwell asked. "I must admit, I'm not entirely clear on who's running things now. I mean, directly. I know who's in charge, but... Who's telling people where to build? Who's telling people when we're coming? Who's..."

"Quick-Builds." Rachel told him. "The same sort of pre-fabs we put together in the Regional Building work. A minor change to the standard floorplan and we're building dormitories instead of Meeting Halls. I remember reading about the Building work. The people in those areas were stunned, these complete buildings popping into existence overnight."

"They got all this organized that fast?"

"Max, consider the last five years. Most of the education work was handled through the websites, the majority of the funding and organization focused on Regional Building Committees and Logistics teams, all of them trained to build to a common floor plan with standardized tools and techniques. We've trained a huge number of brothers in going around the world and putting up new buildings with the speed of the wind."

Maxwell nodded, seeing it. "They were getting ready for more than just the next day. But the rest? Location, transport..."

"Max, it's not like we were taken by surprise here." Rachel told him, smiling broadly. "I came to the party late. You were there for forty years, almost to the endgame. Of all the things that are going to leave you amazed in the coming weeks, I think our administrative skills are going to be low on the list."

"That's true." Maxwell admitted.

"We don't have lines of communication set up yet, but every week the Postmen make the circuit of the congregations in this area, they swap letters in and out on their way to the next circuit over... And then they get to their destinations, and they swear that a few very classy looking letters appear in their bags. They have no idea who put it there, but... Gold Letters like your Return Notice, and other things, like personal assignments." Rachel bit her lip, and then slid an envelope out of her pocket. "This came to me yesterday. I leave tomorrow morning. It's an invitation."

"To what?"

"They only refer to it as 'The Conference'." Rachel pulled a card from the envelope and handed it to him. "I wonder where this came from." She remarked. "It's a thick card, good quality paper, my name is even embossed. There isn't a stationery shop open anywhere nearby for custom orders... I wonder where it came from, and more importantly, why it came to me."

"But what is it?"

"No idea, but… The style of the invite suggests it's something on par with being told a loved one is being Resurrected." Rachel shrugged. "It came to me by name. I think we can assume it's not a Con, or a Scam. People are getting assignments at last, this is mine."

Amelia came in, as Maxwell read the invitation again for clues. "Mail is about the only communications we have at the moment. The only thing more exciting than the Postman showing up is a Reception like tonight." Amelia gestured at the former student. "She can't believe it came to her."

"If there's anything I learned from you two, it was that academic credentials don't exactly mean you have any functional idea of how the world works." Rachel told them.  "If I'm honest, I don't have any idea how anything works now. I thought I did six months ago, but..."

"I heard the Elders talking about the mail the other day." Amelia commented. "They're eager. Apparently, this is what's next."

"Communications." Maxwell nodded. "Everything the brothers do starts with them putting people in a room. Whatever happens next, we'll have to start by getting in touch with everyone else."

"I must admit, I'm looking forward to that." Amelia said, eyes shining. "Max and I had friends in dozens of different congregations around the world. I would give anything for a way to talk to them all right now."

Maxwell handed the invitation back to Rachel. "Clearly, you're not the only one. They're calling together all the smart people to figure things out, and they're asking to hear from you." Maxwell smiled. "Take it as a well deserved compliment."

"I suppose." Rachel sighed. "But I'm glad I was here for this. It'll take me awhile to get there, and I'd hate to think that I would have been away for your Homecoming."

"Must admit, you guys know how to put the 'fun' back into 'funeral'." Maxwell drawled and both women laughed.

Amelia hugged her husband tightly and tugged him up from his chair. "Come on. You're missing your own party. The boys have a competition going to see who can tell the funniest story about you."

"Oh, I dread to think." Maxwell scoffed and led the way back to the Reception.

As they walked, a small figure came hurrying out. "Brother Atwood?"

Rachel glanced over her shoulder and chuckled. "Max, meet Ren Quaid. He's our news hack."

"Really?" Max chuckled.

"Well, not that exactly, but I thought you might like a picture? After all, your face will undergo a few changes…"

"I won't be sorry to see them." Max laughed. "But I take the point." He put an arm around his wife as they posed for the photograph. "Can we get one with Rachel as well?"