Life after Death

We have a running joke in our family, which started when we read together where 'Abdu'l-Bahá says that this life is a mere shadow of the next one; its faint, shifting reflection in a pond. Now whenever we enjoy something special, like a warm swimming pool, a good book, a chocolate float, or a colorful sunset, someone asks if these things exist in the next world, and the invariable answer is that they are a mere shadow of the ones there.

Several days ago, early Sunday morning, Jesi accompanied me to the market to sell Goldie's nine pitch-black puppies. Weeks before, she had put a different-colored ribbon on each one, given them all names, and knew the special peculiarities of every one. Her last act of love to them was to try to haggle the highest price possible, as if to vindicate before the world at least some of the value they held for her.

A few days later, our very un-streetwise Sultan got out, ran away, and although we searched high and low, we couldn't find him. Finally we gave up, with horrible images of him lying in a mangled furry pile next to a highway somewhere. Goldie, now all alone, started moping around with a hung head and an unmistakable look of sorrow on her face, and my sweet Jesi was heart-broken at the enormity of it all. She looked up at me with imploring eyes and asked, "Are there dogs in the next world?" I smiled back reassuringly and answered, "The dogs in this world are a mere shadow of the ones in the next." You should have seen the warm glow that spread across her face!

We finally found Sultan, following a friend's tip-off, at the house of a neighbor who had been "keeping him for us". He hadn't eaten, hadn't been brushed, and the other dogs had injured him. On top of that, the neighbor wanted a reward for finding him! Sultan went wild when he saw us, and I guess it will be some time before he tries something like that again.