Dear Mom, How’s Heaven?

My mom passed away exactly 8 days ago. It’s taken me as many days to muster up the courage to write anything about it and I still don’t really know what to say. But I needed to get some of my inner thoughts out of me because this is therapy for me. Maybe my therapy session will help you, too.

Letter to My Mom

I have so many thoughts racing through my head as I process my grief and I would love nothing more than to be able to call my mom and talk to her about these things. Because of Mom’s declining health and us being out of town with Mike’s transplant, the last meaningful conversation I had with Mom was on March 3rd. Past that date, she was unable to sustain a phone conversation due to weakness and fatigue and she was too confused to really operate her phone. Since I was out of town, I couldn’t visit her to talk in person. This is probably my biggest regret. You never know when you’re in the middle of your last conversation with someone you love. Make your words count and remember that words have power. I think I’ve cried about this one fact more than all the others.

So, instead of re-eulogizing her, I thought I’d just spend this post writing her a letter. When I was a teenager, I wrote her tons of letters to express my ever-volatile emotions. I think with a pen in my hand and my thoughts are so much clearer in writing than spoken. Most of those letters back then were filled with teen angst and petty accusations about my horrible living environment, dripping with sarcasm and whining. She took them in stride, saw through the emotion and talked to me about what was really going on in my heart. This one will be far more loving than those were!

I don’t understand all the theological implications surrounding whether people in heaven can see or hear us here on earth. There are as many varying opinions on that as there are protestant denominations. I won’t presume to shout about things of which the Scripture merely offers whispers. Maybe they can hear/see us, maybe they can’t. There is much mystery to the spiritual and intermediary states and I’m humble enough to know I don’t know everything. Whether Mom can see or hear me or not, this letter is for me to process my own stuff.

Dear Mom, How’s Heaven?

You’ve been there over a week now, have you met Job? I know of all the people you wanted to meet aside from Jesus, Job was the top of the list. Has he blessed you with new insight? I’m jealous of all you must be learning about God these days. Spending eternity with our Lord is such a gift that you were actively looking forward to and it’s just begun for you! What a thrill!

How much fun are you having sharing life with all the saints who’ve gone before us? What sort of interesting people have you met? Do you remember all the times we talked about how judgy Christians on earth are going to be awfully shocked when they get to heaven and find that type of person {insert whatever prejudiced judgment you can think of here}? Who’s the most surprising person you’ve met?

Have you danced in the presence of Jesus yet? Bowed? Cried tears of joy? All of the above? I’ll bet all of the above! How’s your mom? How’s dad? Do you have a cat as a pet yet? Or a dog? You’re not allergic anymore! My theological understanding tells me you might have to wait for the new earth for a pet, but like I said above, I don’t know how all that intermediate state stuff works. Maybe you’re living in realtime like God and you’re unconstrained by time and space now. We’re so limited in our earthly bodies!

Now, I’m going to be sappy and have a hard time finishing because the tears make it hard to see . . . I miss you, Mom. I haven’t even had the opportunity (or the courage) to go to your empty house yet. I miss your phone conversations where you told me “I have more to say” because you always had all the words to share. I miss the sing-song-y way you said Kimberlyyyy and refused to call me my preferred name—Kim—because that’s not what you named me. I miss how you hoarded Bountys (not paper towels - Bountys) and toilet paper, always afraid you’d run out. I miss beach trips with you. Gosh, I’m really going to miss those! I miss coffee conversations with you in the mornings when you would have the nerve to call me before my required two cups, then insist that I just have coffee with you because you weren’t nice yet, either. I miss telling you about the cool new product I found on Amazon and vice-versa. I miss sharing my personal recipes with you, then having you steal them and change them and pass them off as your own without an ounce of shame, no less!

I miss how fiercely you prayed for your family. I miss how tenderly you worshipped Jesus in church, as if you were the only one there and it was just you and God (exactly as we all should be!). I will never forget how excited you got about the Nicene Creed when we learned it in class together. Now, you’re seeing that Creed displayed in the flesh for all of eternity! I miss you so much, Mom! I don’t know how we’re going to go on without you, but I know that we will because you raised strong, healthy kids who learned how to lean on God every step of the way. We learned that from you, Mom.

You taught us everything we needed to know about finding our strength in Christ. You said when you broke your hip that you just wanted to glorify God in your suffering. Well, Mom, you did it. Well done, good and faithful servant. Say hello to Rahab, Deborah, and Jael for me. I love you, Mom. See you soon!