This is a sample of a novella I wrote about heaven. The full edition is available on Amazon Kindle for $2.99. The preview is also available in PDF form.

On to Chapter 2

-10 seconds

The pain began with a form email. Obviously someone hadn’t updated their databases in a very long time. “Dear Derek and Elle,” it began. But that was poor luck on their part, because Elle was gone. Had been, for over five years.

Just seeing the phrase started the rain of memories—a rain which rapidly turned into a flood. He felt it—like a cement brick falling on his head from the top of a building—how horribly he missed her. Just looking at the email was like a hard punch in the guts that left him gasping, his head spinning dizzily. The email blurred before him: his eyes refusing to look at it, trying desperately to shut out the pain.

Remembering wasn’t always this bad. There was a point in nearly every day when he thought of her, when he wondered if this day—or the next—would be the day when he finally saw her again. Most days he remained pretty upbeat. The unrelenting I-miss-Elle usually only revealed itself in the occasional blurted comment, or the way he thought about something: When I see Elle, I will tell her—

Thankfully, the cancer had been sudden and quick, and had only shown its ugly head after a long, full life together. His brain was stuffed with the memories from all those years—good memories, that always spilled over with the feelings that welled up whenever he remembered them. Most days, the feelings too were as good as the memories that caused them. Elle’s absence was no longer the sharp, knifing pain it had once been.

But there was still an ache deep in his soul, like a rotted tooth, or the phantom itch on one’s hand after the arm has been amputated, removed, and could never again be scratched. And tonight, it was bad—horrifically bad. The house was filled with light, but he felt as though he were sitting in the blackest depths of darkness. I will never see her again.

He grabbed himself. Picked up the thoughts and shook them, angrily. Not “never again.” Never is a long time, and it wouldn’t hold up to God’s eternity. He didn’t know when, but he was sure soon they would be face to face.

And not just her, either. All of his loved ones. His parents, his grandparents. Old Uncle Clarence, his favorite, who had been such a joy to be around when he was younger. And others—all the many others who had gone before him.

Considering how many people there were to see, he sometimes felt a little guilty that when he thought of Heaven, he thought of mostly of Elle. Intellectually, he knew Heaven would be full of people, and the most important Person he could ever see would be Jesus. To see God, on the throne, and the angels—well, that would all be incredible. Yet that was greater than his imagination. The thing stirring his emotions, his heart, was the idea of seeing Elle again.

He believed they would be reunited—they both had. They had committed themselves, had shared life with others, had lived a life of faithful obedience. He held his faith, gripped it with every fiber of his being. He was certain he would see Elle, that Heaven would come for him. Or would he go to it? No matter.

In the meantime, he was living out his days. Trying to live life as full as he could. That was what Elle would want. Just because I’m gone doesn’t mean life’s over, she’d tell him.God still has stuff for you to do. So he kept trying to be a blessing to those around him, laboring to be steadfast even here, to finish his race well. He was still writing emails to encourage old friends. He was still reading, keeping up with what was going on in the world. Every Tuesday he went out with some friends for coffee, to talk and share and pray together.

In spite of all the busyness, sometimes he still felt his soul overtaken by the greyness, by the darkness. Not often, but definitely tonight. After sixty years spent nearly constantly with her, hours and days without her were often markers of time spent alone.

Not alone. He had visitors. The children, the grandkids, even the great-grandkids occasionally. Family reunions. Letters in the mail. Get togethers with old friends. Church.

And, it was funny to him—in spite of his desire for Heaven and the hereafter, he was proud to have reached ninety. Surprised his mind was still sharp. Yes, he could honestly admit his body was slower than it had been. He was pleased to still be able to live on his own—although that was as much location as anything, since his apartment was within a short walking distance of everything he needed.

That was what he needed, he thought. He shook himself again. He got up, hovered in the room. It was too dark. He would roust himself, put on some seriously black coffee. He would put on some music—Elle’s list, he decided. He had to get out of this dark mood.

It was ironic. Tonight, when he was missing her so badly, he didn’t see it coming. Each day, he pondered whether this would be the day or not—but today, he failed to recognize the day had arrived.

What was wrong, he decided, was that he wasn’t feeling well. He was tired. Hard not to be depressed when you’re sick. It was probably a cold. He was out of coffee filters. The drugstore down the block would have those. And cough drops.

He slowly went to the closet and pulled out his jacket, and an umbrella. He opened the door, locking it behind him, heading out into the softly drizzling dark without giving very much thought at all about what might happen next. Loosely gripping his umbrella, he shuffled slowly down the hallway and out the door. Yes, he was tired. It was a cold, certainly. Maybe even the flu. His nose was completely plugged up. He couldn’t smell a thing—

The elevator door opened. No one was inside it. He stepped in, watched it close, and then closed his eyes, standing in the middle of the elevator, waiting while it rumbled slowly toward the ground floor. The elevator sounded as tired as he felt. They were drifting down, two old companionable creatures, sighing as they went.

Finally, the elevator reached the ground and the door whooshed open again. Outside the apartment building, he walked slowly down the street until he came to the corner where he stopped and waited for the traffic to go by, watching for the pedestrian walk light to turn green.

That was when the last few seconds of his life on Earth ran out.

His eyes widened with recognition. He knew it was coming—

There was nothing he could do to stop it—

Probably wouldn’t, even if he could—

He knew it because all of a sudden he could smell, and better than ever before: the scent of rain, mixed with the gassy, oily odor of the city, and the faintest scent of nearby trees.

Everything seemed to slow down, to pass in slow motion—

A young woman emerged from the drugstore across the street—

She stopped, as a motorcycle went buzzing past her—

Little drops of water were drip-drip-dripping off the edge of the umbrella—

The sound of screeching tires. His gaze shifted—

Headlights were wobbling, veering crazily back and forth—

The woman across the street: her eyes were widening, her mouth opening—

She screamed—

He felt himself pulled. Sharply. Pulled back, away from the reality of what was happening. He heard the noise of metal crashing, of it being ripped apart with a horrendous noise. Then, the smashed up body of a vehicle struck him. The last feeling: of suddenly flying through the air. The sensation was sharp, yet delicious, and for some reason he compared it to a very nice cheese he and Elle had shared on their honeymoon in Paris.

He heard, but did not feel, the savage thump—

And then, everything went black—

On to Chapter 2