He staggers on. Raising his eyes, Chris can see that this memorial field is spread down the mountainside in every direction for miles. It reminds him of movies he has seen of European war cemeteries with their neat row after row of white crosses spreading to the horizon. There no longer seems to be any path, or maybe he has simply lost it in his confused windings through the markers.
As Chris stumbles downward, he sees that the markers have become something different. On their crystalline faces are moving pictures. Chris realizes that they portray lost opportunities to give, to serve, to love God, to love others. One after another, endless scenarios play out showing what Chris might have been and might have done. Scene after scene show the life Chris could have lived, the life, he bitterly realizes, he should have lived.
He is devastated.
He begins to feel an overwhelming vertigo of despair swallowing him. He drops to the ground and curls himself into a ball and waits for… death?
But death doesn’t come. Chris instead finds himself being lifted by someone he can’t seem to see. He feels strong arms, overpowering love, and hears a voice, a song, that wipes away tears.
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