The First To See Him Go
My story takes place in 1992 in Hawaii. I was in my early twenties at the time and bartending in a nightclub at a large resort. The nightclub was up one flight of stairs and separate from the rest of the resort. My duties included coming in before the rest of the staff to set up before we opened at eight. I did this alone each night. When the sun went down, the club would become dark and the only light was right over the bar where I worked.
This particular night, it was very quiet except for the strong winds outside. I made a point to take a break and go out onto the lanai to look out at the swaying palm trees silhouetted by a thin ribbon of fading sunlight just over the horizon. It was soothing, but a little too cool. I went back inside and continued working, but the winds kept blowing outside and causing strange noises. I still felt chills. I couldn’t wait for the rest of the staff to start arriving.
A few minutes later, I noticed someone at my peripheral standing to my left on the outside of the bar. I always made a point of keeping the main entrance to the bar locked because tourists were fond of exploring and I didn’t like dealing with them until I was on the clock, so to speak. I immediately thought that I had forgotten to lock the door and a tourist had snuck in while I was outside on the lanai.
When I turned toward the visitor though, he seemed to fade into the shadows of the dark club just beyond the island of light around the bar. He was a white man with blond hair and wore a blue shirt that I could tell was long-sleeved. This is odd, because no tourist ever wears long-sleeved shirts in Hawaii. I also noticed for that split second that I saw him that he had a very strange look of loss on his face, as if he were trying to ask me for something. And then, he just wasn’t there.
I immediately went looking for the visitor. I came to the bar where he had stood and looked off into the darkness of the club, but I could not see him. I came from around the bar and began walking around, searching. After a few moments, I felt foolish. I knew I was alone and I assumed that my eyes were playing tricks on me. I went back to work.
A few more minutes passed when my manager came barreling through the door, saying, “You missed it. Some guy just died downstairs!”
He went on to say that it had been an employee, a guy who worked in the maintenance department. His description fit my visitor perfectly, a young white man with blond hair, and the maintenance uniform he wore was a blue shirt with long sleeves.
I do not offer an explanation or this story as proof of the afterlife. I only offer it for others to ponder. All I want to know is, what was he trying to ask me?
