93 My Dead Son Verified that there is Spiritual Life Up in Heaven

Journal Entry       2011

                                             Kyle, 21 years old, a year before he overdosed.

   The bell rang, and I gathered the French materials that needed to be copied for tomorrow’s homework and briskly walked down the hallway. A few kids yelled, “Hi, Ms. B.” above the cacophony of noise. Suddenly Kyle’s voice popped into my head, “Guess who I just walked in the forest with?”   His exuberant voice reminded me of when he was little.   

   He responded before I could answer. “Grandma and Grandpa Boivin.”  Honestly, I wasn’t surprised, since he has shared a lot of his experiences with me since he passed away; it seemed like another normal day in heaven.  “It’s nice to talk and spend time with them. They're relaxed now and fun to be around. The forests aren’t anything like I’ve ever seen before: Some forests have tons of shades of reds and another forest, colors of bright orange. Even the shades of green are more intense than they are on earth, or maybe it’s because I’m more observant up here.  And in some areas, you can barely see the sky because the foliage is so dense. It’s so cool.”

   At least now he’s learned to slow down when he talks to me. When he first had started speaking to me, I’d get bits and pieces of words and then buzzing like a bee until I begged him to slow down.  I guess a spirit’s energy vibrates at a faster pace than a human’s. It felt good to hear how contented he sounded.

   “That’s really neat you can talk to our relatives that have passed to the other side.  I never thought about life existing up in heaven after you die, even though I accepted that ghosts existed on earth way before you passed away,” I said.

   “I didn’t either. But I never believed in heaven,” a little laugh escaped. 

    I guess there is life after death.  A verse from the Bible floated in: “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.”  We had stopped going to church when Nicole was in fourth grade and Kyle in seventh because there was a huge schism in the church which made me feel very uncomfortable. For me, it was easy to leave. I loved the music and the sense of family, but I have never jived with any church, except for the sense of belonging to something. Kyle didn’t believe in a God or Christ so what was he doing in heaven? I guess God loves all his children, no matter what road we take.

    A warm laugh filled my head.  “What are you chuckling about?” I asked.

   “None of my friends would believe me if I told them about this place.”

   “That’s probably true.”  Kyle continued to tell me that he had walked arm in arm with his step-grandfather who had been in a wheelchair since he was fourteen. Jim died of a brain tumor in his late seventies.  I could feel the love in my heart that Kyle has for his grandfather.

   “Everyone here looks younger up here, and grandpa definitely doesn’t need his wheelchair anymore,” Kyle explained.

    I arrived at the Teacher’s Workroom. I needed to concentrate. “I gotta go, talk to you later.”

    “Okay, see you later,” he chirped.   It’s been almost a year, and I still couldn’t believe how happy Kyle sounded, no more bi-polar, schizophrenic behavior, or depression. No wonder he loves it up in heaven. “Hey,” it dawned on me, “Can you see me?”

    There was only silence. Had Kyle already zapped out to check on one of his friends? Or was he not allowed to respond to that question?