Just Another Day was a work of semi-fiction. Actual events blended with fiction. If you should find a few truths along the way, that is okay.
Just what the hell happened in Just Another Day's final chapter?
I get asked this question a lot. Like, three whole people already! Just Another Day came about in the aftermath of two sudden losses. My uncle and aunt passed away just a week apart in the spring of 2014. Not very long after which, a rather severe debate engulfed much of the family on Facebook. I eventually took it upon myself to quit the service. I would come to find solace in creative writing. I have always admired the serenity of Japanese culture and wanted to tell a story that began there. As the story came into fruition, it became clear that I myself was Aratana Hajimari - I myself would die that day. Nobody wants to picture their own death, but it presented me with an interesting writing challenge. Just how would I process everything in my final hours on Earth? And what ultimately caused my fatal heart attack? It led to a somewhat horrific third chapter. I knew that I would have to deal with something difficult. More difficult than my own death. The story sadly dictated the revelation that my eldest brother, Patrick, had passed away a year earlier. Having lived in Japan for twenty-something years, I had naturally lost touch with the family. It weakened my heart enough to become the catalyst for my own death later in that chapter. Foreshadowing can sometimes be a bitch.
But wait! Just Another Day did not end there. No, a whole chapter followed in its wake. A chapter that, to this very day, is some of my most inspired creative writing. I learned of Robin Williams' sudden suicide while writing the third chapter of Just Another Day. I have never felt so saddened by the loss of an actor. I never met Robin Williams, but his sense of humor and grace touched me. He once said, "You're only given a little spark of madness. You mustn't lose it." Madness was front and center in Chapter 0. I had already entertained the idea of telling a story in the afterlife, but Robin's suicide prompted me to tell a very different story. A very dark story with a happy ending. Howard was my grandfather's first born son. In 1943, he was delivered to two loving parents. My grandfather, Leslie, had a wonderful sense of humor all his own. He said this about Howard's birth in Chapter 0, "Hey, son! Welcome to the world! I would give you a cigar, but you're not old enough!" Sadly, time divided the happy couple. Jean, Howard's mother, would eventually undergo a divorce from Leslie. This left Howard feeling very vulnerable. He loved both his parents, but felt he did not see his father as often as he would like. Leslie went on to father three children with his second wife, Allene. One of them being my mother, Denise. Howard would come to develop severe depression in his teenage years. Jean did everything she could to help him, but on October 24th, 1960, he did the unthinkable. He took his own life. With a rope he fashioned into a noose, he quickly embraced death. Howard was gone in the blink of an eye. Not a very happy ending.
This is where things get tricky. Following Howard's suicide in Just Another Day, I found myself reliving my complicated birth. The umbilical cord became entangled around my neck and I was unable to take in oxygen. My heart rate slowed to a crawl. If not for the doctors in the emergency room, I would have surely died. In that brief moment of recollection, I found an escape from the clutches of time. I came face to face with my own father, Paul, who passed away in 2009. What followed was, simply put, fucking awesome. "With or without the profanity!" Wait, what about poor little Howard? Just why had I relived his life, anyway? As the chapter neared its conclusion, I felt the only logical thing to do was bring myself back from the brink of death. After all, someone had to tell the story. If I had remained in the afterlife, there would have been no one to share the very words on the page. I saw it as a potential plot hole. Late in the story, I stated in shock, "You cannot possibly mean reincarnation?" To which Refael replied with persistence, "No. Reanimation." The seed had been planted. It was left to the reader to piece together the meaning. Ready? When Howard committed suicide, he did not cease to exist. He would come to find another pair of loving parents. He returned to the world in much the same way he left it. With something entanged around his neck. Yes, Howard and I were one and the same! "He may be a tortured soul, but he has potential," said Refael throughout Chapter 0.
In the original draft for Just Another Day, I had intended for an additional passage between Howard's death and my birth. It would have found his soul in a place few wish to visit. I abandoned the idea because it felt too depressing. Howard had just committed suicide and I was about to send him to hell. A temporary hell, but hell nonetheless. There, he would have found himself unable to let go of his former attachments. Unable to stop reliving the most painful moments of his life. Vile entities would have only reinforced his mental anguish. A few years after Howard's death, his Aunt Elsie passed away. It would be her that would lift him from the darkness. They had a special bond in life. One which was perhaps stronger than any other. Howard, I, was presented with a choice. I chose to fight my way back to Earth. The final set of passages in Chapter 0, which dealt with a rather ugly demon confrontation, were not about my death in the third chapter, but my suicide in 1960. I was prepared to return by any means necessary. The demon insisted that my name was Howard, but I corrected him. I shouted, ""My name is Michael, and I am not afraid of you." I mustered all the light and love I could in my attempt to defeat the demon. In the end, I would have been destroyed forever if not for the appearance of a being of pure white light. He struck the demon down with more light than I could ever hope to create. I mistook him for my brother, Patrick. He was nice enough not to correct me. I was delivered to two loving parents, Paul and Denise. I behaved like a monster for much of my early life, but I eventually settled down. One could certainly say I was a hell child...
Leslie passed away a year following my birth. He stuck around just long enough to know his one and only grandson...
"Howard said to his father, 'Thank you for this, Pop! You have no idea how much this meant to me!' Leslie said with a great big smile, 'No, thank you, son! I've missed spending time with you. We need to do things like this more often!' Just then, Howard caught a glimpse of a robin coming to rest on a nearby tree. He reached out for his father's hand, and said, 'I love you, Pop!'"
Godspeed, Robin Williams.
Further Reading: Just Another Day
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