"Oh, this is heavenly."

“Am I dead?”

“Most certainly.”

“But…but…bu…”

The Lady holding my hand turned her head to look at me. She smiled the most beautiful smile I have ever seen. (It turned out later... ALL smiles after you are dead…are the most beautiful you will ever see.)

Her voice came out like soft flute like notes with just a hint of wind chimes. I loved it.

“I know, where was the tunnel, the light, the surrounding of yourself by loving relatives…and, of course, the Pearly Gates.”

She laughed. And I definitely heard more wind chimes in that soft chuckle.

“The answer is simple. Those are not “Life After Death” signals. In fact, they are “You are dying” signals. Your brain and nervous system is shutting down, so is your circulatory system. The side effects of that are the tunnel, the light, and the sense of well being…or being loved. Now you are dead…and this (waving her had to include the magnificent scenery, soft wonderful fragrances, and the quiet sense of serenity surrounding us) is your Heaven.

“What?!”

She smiled. (Just as lovely and beautiful as that earlier smile.)

“What? You think Heaven is the same for everyone? How quaint.”

“You mean nobody is here but me?”

This time her laugh was a full blown flute section with a first Chair wind chime.

“Don’t be silly. Everybody who ever died is here. At least those that loved, were forgiven, and forgave.”

My mind was spinning. I looked around. We were walking down a grass lane with two wagon wheel kind of tracks marking it as a path. On one side of the path were lovely flower gardens. Not organized, or in sections, just a naturally formed garden bursting with color and scents. On the other side, towering Oaks, Maples, Hickory and a few scattered Pines grew to amazing heights.

Imagine the perfect country side view, combined with the most impressive trees you have ever seen, liven it up with birds of all colors and songs flitting here and there…and you would have barely a glimpse of what surrounded us on that old trail.

She gently tugged on my hand. Pulling me out of my stunned viewing.

“Come. You will love your house.”

“My house?”

She laughed. This time the wind chime dominated.

“Well, not everyone gets a mansion.”

I could sense she was teasing. So I smiled back at her. I felt my smile. I had never felt a smile before. It was glorious. I knew it was a pretty smile and her words confirmed it.

“You have a beautiful smile.”

“Thank, you.”

She squeezed my hand. I squeezed back.

We turned the corner in a long slow gentle arch. I stopped dead in my tracks. (No pun intended) Ahead of me, nestled in a small valley that made every poster I ever saw of a cottage in Ireland look like a rough sketch…was my house. The walls were so white they glistened in the sun. Flower boxes were stuffed with brilliant blooms under each of the three windows on the front of the house. The door was a dark spot of warm wood. Only the bottom half was closed.

A bike leaned up against one side wall. I could see (and hear) a brook gently bubbling its way not far from my back door. Some animals were grazing in small flocks as they meandered up the slope to the ridge line. Everything was green, growing, fresh with the smell of healthy earth permeating everywhere. My senses reeled …tears poured from my eyes.

A few people came down the winding path from the other side. They were all so fit. They weren’t Angels. They were people. Dead People. And they were so alive. Not one of them had a limp, or bad vision (no glasses, no hearing aides, no canes, no false limbs…no disease, illness, or injuries). They weren’t perfect…not by a long shot. One fella was tall and thin. Another guy was a bit on the chubby side. One of the Ladies looked like my High School Girlfriend, and another looked like she could be the perfect example of “the girl next door.”

They had wicker baskets under their arms. Some contained food, some wine, others had fruit of all sorts …and all of the baskets issuing smells that promised only the best tasting of each. My mouth started to water. They introduced themselves. I almost fainted. One was my old High School girlfriend. Another was the girl next door. Slim (the tall beanpole) was my Drill Sergeant in the Army. The little chubby guy? My best friend in Grade School. Apparently he kept his baby fat when he went through puberty.

No matter what their bodies were shaped like, or how they were colored in either skin- or hair, their health was perfect. They could all run like the wind (I know, because after we ate…we played tag!) All their joints worked. Even if they tripped, fell, or flopped onto the earth, or bounced off a tree…they didn’t get hurt. Neither did I when I slipped on a boulder in the middle of the brook and slammed head first into a large log on the other bank. I got up laughing.

Later, I sat outside my cottage. A small fire in a stone chiminea cast a warm glow. The smoke never drifted towards me. I held a cold drink in one hand, the other hand still held an old familiar one. The hand of my old High School Girlfriend. There were no bugs. There were the soft quiet sounds of the night though. I looked over at her. She smiled back at me.

The fire slowly turned to embers. She moved her chair a bit closer to mine. I wrapped a small woolen wrap around her shoulders.

I pulled my chair a little closer. She leaned onto my shoulder.

I sighed and said:

“Oh, this is Heavenly."

A voice drifted in like smoke over a winter home- I heard the flute and the wind chimes in it:

“No, this is Heaven.”