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Show Inside Out, 44 Mom said, "I don't know, Andli. But remember what it was like to watch Grandma die? Didn't it seem like she had gone somewhere better?" "Yeah," I said. "But how do we know it's not just that when life is gone the body kind of lets go? How do we know there's something nice that people move on to?" "I don't know," she said. She thought for a while. Then she said, "I guess it really doesn't matter, because either way we're OK, right? I mean, we either go somewhere good or we quit completely. Either way we're not stressed anymore. But it seems to me that there's something inside us that makes us think there's another place to go to." I asked, "But is that just because we're afraid? Like wishful thinking?" "I guess there's no way to know," she said. "But I think I'd like to just decide that I'm going to believe in another place. Choose to believe." Choose to believe. I thought about that for a minute. "OK," I said. "Let's believe in heaven." In the weeks after she died, I thought a lot about heaven, of course. I wondered if she had met Grandma there. I like to think she had, because it makes it easier, sort of. Because if there is life after death, Mom isn't miserable. She is somewhere, happy. That's some consolation. If Joseph was telling the truth, then "heaven" was right here. In the library. Or wherever else people used to hang out when they were still alive. Me: So is anyone else hanging around here now? I mean, people like you. J: Not right here, by us. But there are others here in the library, yes. J: I'm trying to not attract their attention. J: I figure if they knew I could write to you, they'd want to try, too. |