My dolls scattered across the faded quilt as I sat on my Mom’s bed. The curtains were drawn, the steel windows closed. She sat there staring into nothingness, but I kept talking about my dolls. Then all of a sudden, I asked her, “Can we visit Dad in heaven?”

This took her by surprise. She looked hesitant, her eyes ringed with shadows, meeting mine. She nodded, and a faint smile came upon her lips.

“Now, Amma, close your eyes,” I told her. “No, Amma, we are going on the elevator.”

“It is a long ride, Amma,” I said. “It is a long ride. Lots of floors.”

My mother smiled now.

“Can you see the Earth’s crust, and now the stars… wait… wait, my favorite… the Milky Way…” I smiled. I hoped she saw the billion stars like I saw them.

She squeezed my hand, her touch warm despite the chill. We pierced the cloud cover, emerging into a realm of golden light. A verdant landscape unfurled before us, dotted with vibrant flowers and towering trees.

We descended into a garden bursting with carnations of every hue. Their spicy fragrance enveloped us as our feet touched the soft grass. In the center stood a young man with familiar broad shoulders and jet-black hair.

“Dad!” I cried, running towards him.

He turned, his face lighting up as he caught me in his strong arms. “My little butterfly,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

My mom hesitated, looking at this young man of about 20.

“You seem so young here,” said Mother. “Like in the old photographs.”

“We don’t age here. We are always in our youth here.” He embraced her.

“How have you been?” he asked, leading us to a small cottage. I told Mom, “Can you see the big mansion?”

She nodded. I could see tears trickling down her face.

“Why are you staying in this cottage?” my mom asked disapprovingly.

“Because we could never afford to buy this one on Earth,” he said, opening the door. It was beautiful. Birds chirping, flowers blooming, harp music drifting with the wind.

“I’m sorry there’s nothing to give you to eat,” my father said, smiling.

“So you don’t have any food?” asked my mother.

“No food, no night… always relaxing, playing, walking. It’s like an infinite vacation.”

“I’m glad to see that you’re happy in this place.”

“He is very happy, Mom,” I slipped in.

“Dad, can you show the dog?” I prodded.

Mom looked anxious.

“A dog?” she exclaimed.

“Yes, the one that got killed.”

My mother’s eyes welled up. “You have everything that you lost down there.”

“Yes, I’m happy here,” Dad turned and asked us to follow him.

We were walking along a river.

“Is that milk flowing like a river?” I asked with enthusiasm.

Mom looked at me questioningly. She didn’t like milk, so I nodded back. Then after a few minutes, the river turned to honey. She looked stern, like she wanted to understand what was going on.

Mom kept looking at me; she wanted the most important question. I knew she thought that, so I asked Dad, “Why did you leave us?”

He was silent for a moment. He tried to remember.

“I don’t know what happened. I can’t remember.”

“Mom said you went to get us food.”

“Oh, is that so?” he ruminated.

He looked at Mom and wondered. “I remember all the good things, but not the bad memories. I think that’s what happens in heaven, and in Hell, it will be the opposite, I guess.”

My mother stood up angrily. She remembered the struggle after he was gone. Here he was happy with happy memories, while back at home we struggled every day.

My dad asked about Grandma.

Mom stared at him blankly.

“We just shot her last week when she was infected,” I said. “Isn’t she here?”

My mom’s eyes widened.

We left Dad. We left this beautiful place. We came back hearing the knock at the kitchen door.

“Quick,” said Mother. She took out the old rifle and pushed me behind her. The door opened, and there stood my zombified Grandma.

Before Grandma could move, we sent her to Dad.

Next time we visit him, she would probably be there…

© Ronald Hadrian 2024