What do you think Heaven looks like?
Do you think we each have our own form of Heaven?
I had a dream once about my mother’s Heaven.
She called me from there, via FaceTime.
Funny, right?
We all know that’s not even remotely possible, but I think I wanted to talk to my mom so bad that my mind made it seem like it was actually possible.
It was about a week after she passed away.
It seemed so real, as I can remember it so vividly.
In my dream...
I remember how my phone showed “Mom Calling...”
I couldn’t believe it but I answer it anyways.
There I see my mom’s face.
Gosh, was it so good to see her face again!
I had missed her so much already.
She began to cry so naturally, I started crying along with her.
I asked her, “Why are you crying, Mom?”
She told me, “I wasn’t ready to die, Sarah. There was still a lot of life to experience. I don’t get to watch Aiden grow up, or see you get married. I don’t get to experience any of that!”
I could hear it in her voice that she was becoming angry.
Then a voice called out, “Mom, are you really here?”
I realized it was my older brother Michael calling for our mom.
Michael had passed away when he was just a little baby.
This was their reunion after a long 26 years of being apart.
I could see it on my mom’s face that she was happy to see him.
She returned to our FaceTime chat and noticed I was crying.
She said, “Oh, Sarah. I am so sorry that I’m not there with you anymore but I promise you. I will always be watching over you. You’re strong, and I know you’ll be okay until you are called Home to Heaven.”
I sniffled and replied, “Yeah? How do you know I’m going to be okay?”
She smiled and replied, “Because you’re my daughter.”
After some more crying, she says to me, “I have to go now. Michael and Grandma are waiting for me. But before I go, I want you to see my Heaven so you know I’m at peace now. That I’m happy.”
She flips the camera around so I can see what is surrounding her.
In all of its wonders, there it was.
My mother’s Heaven.
What looked like a garden full of Morning Glories—my mom’s favorite flower.
And Hummingbirds— what she always loved watching as they fed from the feeder she put out for them off the back porch.
It was so beautiful, and so bright.
The beauty in itself brought tears of joy to my eyes.
But then, my heart broke just a little more.
Those words pierced my heart like a knife all over again.
“I have to go now, Sarah. I love you. Bye.”
The call was ended.
See, I knew that wasn’t really goodbye.
It was simply, “See you later.”
Because I know one day, I will see her again.
The day the Lord calls me Home...
To my Heaven.

Most of the time, I can deal with your death. I can hold back the tears and accept that you’re gone.
I force myself to believe the cliche words that get thrown around, about how God takes His favorites first. About how it was your time and how everything happens for a reason.
But sometimes, that silver linings attitude fades away and all I can feel is anger. Hurt. Betrayal.
I’m sorry that I can’t be strong all the time. That there are days when I question my faith. Days when I hate the world and every person inside of it. Days when I’m bitter about the way life turned out.
I’m sorry that I can’t walk around with unflinching hope when I know how ****** this world is. I’m sorry I’m not perfect. I’m sorry I carry so much anger inside.
I’m ******, because you left your family behind. You left people who still needed your love, your voice, your hugs, your kisses. People who cared about you more than they cared about themselves. People who would do anything to have one more minute with you.
I’m ******, because I keep seeing these ****** people running around without a care in the world, living for decades longer than you had the chance to. Because the goodness in your heart should have earned you more days, months, years.
I’m ******, because you deserved better. You deserved to celebrate more milestones. You deserved to see the people around you grow up. You deserved to grow old yourself and pass away peacefully in your sleep after ninety years of living your best life.
I’m ******, because it’s not fair. That sounds whiny to say, childish, but it’s the truth. What happened to you wasn’t fair. What happened to your family wasn’t fair. Nothing about your death was fair.
I miss you. And I hate that I miss you, because I shouldn’t have to. I should be able to call you up. I should be able to knock on your door. I should be able to see you face-to-face anytime I want.
You should still be here, right now, sending me texts to ask how I’ve been doing. You should still be here, right now, giving me a reason to laugh instead of cry. You should still be here, right now, alive and well.
No matter how many cliches are thrown at me about how only the good die young, no matter how many of those sayings I choose to believe to find some semblance of comfort, I will always believe that your death was *******.
I will always believe that there was some sort of mistake, that you didn’t deserve it. 
I will always believe that you deserved so much more.

Like my mom, her dad can’t be replaced.
And he’s still alive!
Her dad came first before mine just like my mom came first before you.
Without her dad, you wouldn’t have her.
Without my mom, my dad wouldn’t have me.
That would be okay though, right?
I don’t understand parents.
Honestly I don’t.
So many of them want their children to respect them.
I understand that, I do.
But how can you demand respect when you don’t respect them?
I may be grown but I will always be my dad’s daughter first.
I’d like to think he’d be upset if I stopped communicating with him.
But I feel like I must.
I don’t feel like I’m a part of his family anymore.
Just like the saying goes:
“Out with the old, in with the new.”
He’s got this NEW family.
I’m just old news.
And she’s torn between THREE different families now.
I honestly don’t think I have a place in the world anymore.
I don’t have a place in my birth given family and I don’t have a place in the family that I’ve created.
I just don’t belong anywhere.