Heaven. Its a beautiful word. Full of joy, love, color. When I imagine Heaven, I see blue, and gold, and soft pastels. I hear the wind, rustling the leaves. A child's laughter. An artist's paintbrush. The fingers of musicians stroking keys.
I see light. Always light. And I feel home. And God is there. His presence fills everything, every corner with an unspeakable joy. It radiates like the sun, but it does not hurt the eyes.
Spunky is in heaven now. Opa Raine too. I see them, sitting beneath a tree, listening to the angels sing, a brooke gurgling in the back round. Spunky is jumping through the grass the way she used to when the sun shone.
They are happy. They have no pain anymore. Spunky's fur is sleek, and she is young again. Opa Raine's hip is not hurting, and all the aches of his body have fled. I see them there. They are happy, filled with joy at being home. God is there. The angels are there. They are all waiting for me. Spunky is waiting for me.
One day, not yet, I will go to them, I will hold Spunky in my arms once more, and tell her what a good girl she is. I will hug Opa Raine and tell him I'm glad to see him. My parents and brothers will be there as well. We will all be reunited, we will be a family, we will be whole.
And I will see Jesus, and everything will be alright again.
