DECEMBER'S GIFT, JANUARY'S LOSS...
MY JOURNEY BETWEEN THE TWO GATES
On a December morning in 1988, Sam arrived not with a cry but with a gasp, as if the very act of stepping into this world demanded more than his tiny body could bear. Born through a C-section, his entrance was dramatic, a harbinger of the vibrant, unforgettable soul he would become. But those first moments were fraught—he swallowed fluid during birth, and I watched helplessly as he was whisked away to the neonatal intensive care unit. For two agonizing days, he lay surrounded by the hum and beep of machines, his fragile body tethered to monitors that seemed to mock my helplessness. All I could do was hold his impossibly small hand, his delicate fingers curling instinctively around one of mine as if to tell me, “I’m here, Daddy. I’m holding on.” In that silent connection, a bond was forged—a vow that no force in this realm or the next would ever sever.
When Sam finally came home, his strength belied the uncertainty of those early days. Healthy and full of life, he melted into my chest as I held him close, his breath soft and steady against my skin. His warmth seeped into me, and in that moment, time paused. I felt the unshakable truth of our connection: this boy, my son, belonged here, against my heart, where he was always meant to be. Every worry dissolved, replaced by an overwhelming tidal wave of love.
As December 11th draws near, I find myself adrift in the vast, luminous sea of memory, each wave carrying fragments of a life so vibrant it could never truly fade. Sam would have turned 36, his laughter mingling with mine if fate had allowed it. It is tempting—achingly so—to let the shadow of his passing on that unthinkable day in January 2021 blot out the radiant light of his birth. But I will not surrender to that darkness. Instead, I choose to hold fast to the brilliance of the day he first entered this world, a day that etched itself into the fabric of my soul like the first rays of dawn after a long, cold winter’s night.
I was there when Sam took his first breath, cradling him as his tiny chest rose and fell with the rhythm of new life. I was there, too, when he exhaled his last, my arms a refuge for his departing spirit. The symmetry of those moments—birth and death, the surge of joy, and the abyss of sorrow—is a truth that defines my journey as a father and has become the essence of who I am. It is a paradox of love: to hold both the weight of grief and the lightness of memory, to mourn and yet marvel, to ache and yet give thanks for the miracle of having known him at all.
Sam’s childhood was a symphony of laughter and discovery, each notes a melody that sang to my soul. I was honored to be its conductor, guiding him through the rhythms of life’s earliest lessons. On the baseball field, I watched him shine, his natural brilliance turning every swing and sprint into a masterpiece that left me bursting with pride. I steadied the back of his bike as he wobbled, teetering between uncertainty and triumph, my cheers carrying him forward until he found his balance. In those moments, I tried to teach him what it meant to be a man—to be kind, resilient, and unwaveringly true to himself. But in truth, Sam was my teacher. He showed me how to love with abandon, laugh so deeply the world seemed brighter, and view life through the vast, curious eyes of wonder.
Every milestone was a treasure etched into my heart, and every heartbreak was a weight I willingly shared. I promised to be his anchor in the fiercest storms, his steady compass as he navigated life’s uncharted waters. Yet, even as I held him steady, he became my guiding star. His light illuminated my path, even in the darkest moments, a beacon of love and purpose that could never dim.
Sam’s presence is etched into the fabric of existence, a gentle reminder that our love transcends the fleeting nature of physical life. Even now, the number 444 appears like a sacred echo, a cue that Sam is near, his essence woven into the rhythm of my days. When the clock strikes 4:44, when a license plate flashes the numbers, or when they appear in the most unexpected places, I pause, and there he is—a reminder that love endures, unseen but deeply felt.
In writing Between Two Gates: A Young Man’s Quest Toward Birth, I sought to capture this truth. The story of Sam is not confined to the limits of a lifetime but stretches infinitely, connecting moments past, present, and yet to come. It is a testament to the eternal thread that binds us—a bond not severed by time or space but alive in the signs and whispers, in the sacred moments where our worlds meet. Sam lives in the 444s, in the gentle cadence of nature, and in every breath of love that transcends this earthly plane.
A portion of Sam’s soul resides within me, in the sacred space where my tears blend with joy, where my grief is a reflection of my love. It’s here, in the depths of my heart, that I carry him forward. He is the best part of me—the part that loves without hesitation laughs without fear and finds beauty even in the shadows of sorrow. And so, on December 11th, I will light a candle not to mourn but to celebrate. I will honor the tiny hand that first gripped my finger, the unshakable presence that transformed my life. Through the veil of tears, I will smile, for Sam will always be my boy, my heart, my everything—the center of my world, my guiding light, and my eternal love.
Happy birthday, Son.
Between Two Gates: A Young Man’s Quest Toward Birth is a cinematic odyssey of love, loss, and redemption that begins where most stories end—with the tragic death of Samuel, a vibrant 32-year-old whose life is stolen by a fentanyl-laced Percocet. Yet, Samuel’s passing is merely the threshold to a journey of profound spiritual awakening as he seeks to uncover the cause of his demise and the timeless truths of his existence.
The story unfolds in three sweeping acts, each as vivid and transcendent as the last. In act one, Samuel awakens in a radiant soul world, welcomed by his wise and loving grandfather. Together, they journey through the tapestry of Samuel’s past life, revisiting moments of tenderness, triumph, and heartbreak. As they delve into the choices that shaped his path, Samuel confronts the delicate interplay of free will, circumstance, and consequence, gaining insights that transcend his earthly perspective.
The second act plunges Samuel into a realm of shadow and trial. Called upon by his soul family, he must embark on a harrowing rescue mission to free his great-great-grandfather, a soul trapped in the clutches of the malevolent Rasha. To do so, Samuel descends through the five foreboding realms of Gehenna, each a crucible of reckoning where he faces his darkest truths and emerges cleansed of illusion. This treacherous journey tests the very core of his being, transforming him into a warrior of light.
The final act ascends into the sublime. Samuel ventures to the seven planetary spheres, where he encounters celestial beings—angels, archangels, and the enchanting fairies of cosmic lore. In these celestial domains, Samuel is granted a vision of the grand design of existence, unraveling the karmic threads of his past and the purpose that binds him to the eternal. Through these divine revelations, he finds forgiveness, redemption, and the ultimate gift—a chance to begin anew.
Between Two Gates is a masterful meditation on the soul’s journey, a vivid and transformative tale that explores the mysteries of life, death, and rebirth. Through Samuel’s quest, readers are invited to contemplate the redemptive power of love, the cycles of karma, and the unbreakable bonds of family. It is a story of hope and renewal, a luminous reminder of the infinite beauty and purpose within us all.
WHY I WROTE BETWEEN TWO GATES
On January 27th, 2021, my life was irrevocably shattered with the loss of my son, Samuel. At just thirty-two years old, his life, so full of promise and vitality, was cut short, leaving behind an emptiness that words can scarcely capture. But in the wake of this profound loss, a quiet yet insistent voice began to stir within me—a yearning to reach across the chasm of mortality, to connect with my son’s spirit in a way that transcended the finality of his passing.
Grief became both a weight and a doorway for me. In my darkest hours, I turned to my writing—not as a mere outlet for sorrow but as a means of uncovering something deeper. What began as a reflection on loss grew into a journey of spiritual discovery. Through writing, I found myself treading paths that stretched beyond the tangible, uncovering the enduring nature of the soul and the timeless bond between a parent and their child.
From this journey arose Between Two Gates: A Young Man’s Quest Toward Birth—a story born from grief yet illuminated by hope. It is not simply a narrative but a bridge, a testament to the unyielding love that binds us even when the veil of death separates us. In crafting this book, I felt Sam’s presence with me, his spirit a guiding force that imbued every page with meaning and purpose. Together, we wove a story that is as much about healing as it is about love—a reminder that even in the face of unimaginable loss, there is light to be found.
Sam’s story is a transformation journey, from the moment of his passing to the profound odyssey his soul undertakes in search of understanding and renewal. But it is also my journey—a father’s path through grief, illuminated by the resilience of love and the enduring truth that connection does not end with death. In embracing this creative process, I found a way to celebrate Sam’s legacy, honor the radiant light he brought into my life, and share the lessons he continues to teach me.
Between Two Gates is my offering to the world, a tribute to the boy who changed my life and the man whose spirit continues to guide me. It is a beacon of hope, a reminder that even in the deepest sorrow, love can illuminate the way forward. On December 11th, I will light a candle in Sam’s honor—not in mourning but in gratitude for the love that defies time, the bond that transcends death, and the son who will always be my guiding light.
A Note About 444
Dear Reader,
You may not have known Sam, but I ask you to open your heart to the quiet echoes of his journey among the heavenly spheres. His presence is like a soft breeze, unseen but felt, weaving tender ripples through the fabric of our world. These moments of connection arrive unexpectedly, as if carried on the whisper of eternity, reminding us that he is near—part of something vast and beautiful that binds us all.
And then there is 444. More than a number, it is a sacred nudge, a gentle hello from beyond. It may reveal itself in the glow of a clock at 4:44, the sum on a receipt, or a fleeting glance at a street sign. Wherever it appears, let it still your mind and stir your soul. In that instant, think of Sam—his journey, his light, and the infinite threads connecting us.
Sam’s story is an invitation to find grace in the ordinary, uncover beauty in the ephemeral, and listen closely to the universe’s quiet voice. Whether you knew him or not, his legacy is a hymn to openness, to seeking connection in the unlikeliest of places, and to honoring the profound mystery of all that is unseen.
So when 444 finds you, let it symbolize something greater: Sam’s journey, your own, and the delicate web of connection that holds us together. In that fleeting moment, you will carry his light forward—a light that lingers, loves, and reminds us we are never truly alone.
With gratitude,
Neil Perry Gordon
