Bridge for Passing by Pearl S. Buck Read Free Book Online Page B

globe.
    And shall I ever forget, before we returned to Tokyo, we saw unexpectedly, that afternoon, the snowy cone of Mount Fuji, rising above the clouds and halfway up the sky. Visitors in Japan may stay for months and not see Fuji. It is entirely by chance and the grace of God whether the sacred mountain appears before human eyes. We were driving on a hillside road in the middle of the afternoon, the sky was turbulent with clouds, and while I dreamed of the vision I dared not hope. Suddenly I saw it, the perfect crest, white against a field of sudden blue sky. A few, a very few, famous sights are better than the rumor of their beauty. The Taj Mahal is one of these and Fuji is another. We stopped for three and a half minutes to gaze in delight and awe. Then clouds hid again the majestic shape.
    I opened my eyes in Tokyo the next morning at five o’clock, widely awake, totally aware. I had been summoned in some way, not by a voice or at least I did not hear a voice. I was simply conscious somehow of having been summoned. The room was neither dark nor light. Night had ended but dawn was not yet come. I lay motionless in my bed, listening, waiting, convinced that someone was trying to reach me. Slowly the impression faded away and I was alone again, yet not as before. There was still something to come. I must be ready for it.
    At quarter to six o’clock the telephone rang. I knew immediately what the message would be.
    “Overseas call, please,” a voice said. “From the United States, please, Pennsylvania calling—are you ready?”
    “I am waiting for it,” I said. I knew now that I had been waiting for an hour.
    “Stand by, please,” the voice said.
    I had been standing by for an hour and I continued. In seven minutes, my watch on the table under my eyes, my daughter’s voice came to me over the thousands of miles of land and sea between us.
    “Mother?”
    “Yes, darling.”
    “I have to tell you something. Are you ready?”
    “Yes, darling.”
    “Mother.” The clear brave young voice faltered and went on resolutely. “Mother, Dad left us this morning in his sleep.”
    “I thought that was what you had to tell me.”
    “How did you know?”
    “I just—knew.”
    “Will you come home?”
    “Today—on the first jet.”
    “We’ll meet you in New York.”
    “I’ll cable as soon as I know the flight.”
    “Everybody has come home. We’re all here. We’ll take care of everything until you come.”
    “I know.”
    We exchanged the few private words, heart spoke to heart, and I hung up. For a moment there was the longing, oh, that I had never left, oh, that I could have been there when he went. I put it aside. I had discussed this very moment thoroughly with our family physician. Years ago he had said in answer to my question, “It may be many years away, it may be tomorrow. You must continue to live exactly as you have. His heart is strong, his digestion is perfect—I think he will live a long time. But remember, whenever it comes, however it comes, you can have done nothing to prevent it. Even I could not, though I might be sitting at his side.”
    He had hesitated, then continued. “The brain is severely damaged. Of course you must expect a total change in personality—we don’t know—”
    That brilliant brain, responding so quickly to my every thought—yes, there had been a change in personality. The man I knew so well, the wise companion, became someone else, a trusting child, a gentle helpless infant, whom no one could help loving. We were fortunate, even so. When the brain fails and only the body is left, it is true that there is sometimes a terrifying change in the personality. The Chinese believe the human being has three souls and seven earthly spirits. When the souls depart, only the earthly spirits are left, the person becomes evil and cruel in unpredictable ways. It was not so with him. His earthly spirits were all of a piece with his three souls. He continued what he had always been: