I didn’t know how I got there or when it happened, but suddenly, I found myself standing before a narrow path under the harsh glare of the midday sun. There was no way to turn back, no other route to take. On either side of the path yawned a great abyss, shrouded in an impenetrable light. No bottom was visible. The only choice was to move forward.

So, I walked. I couldn’t say for how long. My usual watch, the one I always wore, was missing from my wrist, leaving me untethered from time. Step by step, the path began to widen. Gradually, olive trees appeared on either side, their silvery leaves whispering in a faint breeze. Ahead, a structure came into view, rising against the horizon, a building of old stone and Byzantine elegance. It looked like a church, weathered and abandoned, its domes and arches worn by time.

“Maybe there’s someone in there,” I thought, clutching to the hope that I might find help or at least answers. **Where am I? How did I get here?**

With that thought, I pushed open the tall, ancient doors, their hinges groaning like a tired sigh.

“Hello?” My voice echoed into the silence. “Is anybody here? I think I’m lost… I need some direction. Hello?”

The only response was my own voice bouncing back at me. I was alone. Completely alone.

Driven by curiosity and a gnawing sense that this place held the answers I sought, I began to explore. The air was freshly pleasant and warm with the scent of newness and at the same time history. I made my way to the altar at the heart of the church. Lifting my gaze to the dome above, I expected to see the usual stained-glass depictions of saints, their holy visages watching over the space with solemn grace.

But what I saw instead made me freeze in place. I blinked, unable to believe my eyes.

There, in the stained glass, were scenes from my life.

It was unmistakable. Each panel depicted a moment, vivid and personal. My mother holding me as a newborn. My baptism, the cool water trickling down my forehead. My first graduation, the pride in my father’s eyes. My wedding day, my wife radiant in her dress. The birth of my first child, the overwhelming joy of that moment. And then, other milestones, scenes I had long since tucked away in the folds of memory, unfolded before me.

And then I saw the final panel.

It showed me lying in a hospital bed, surrounded by my wife, my children, and my grandchildren. Their faces were heavy with love and sorrow.

It hit me all at once, the realization crashing over me like a wave. This was no ordinary path. I was no longer in the world I knew. I was leaving it.

This journey was the crossing, the passage from earthly life to something far greater. The path had led me here, not to an abandoned church, but to the threshold of the eternal.

Tears blurred my vision as I stared up at the dome, my life spread before me in radiant colors. I wasn’t afraid anymore. I had walked the path, and now, it was time to move forward, into the light, into the heavenly city.