Christina Henriquez · Death

Come together fall apart

What do you think it’s like, heaven? – My father asked me.

– I think there’s a lot of light, even at night. And I think you can float a little, not like the astronauts in the space shuttle when they’re bouncing off walls, but more like when you’re in the ocean and you can spring up and hover for a second before coming back down. I think you can see down to Earth whenever you want and God’s arms keep growing longer and longer every day because He wraps them all the way around heaven and holds everyone at once.


The priest was going to say a few words and then I was supposed to get up and deliver the eulogy. Life has killed my father, and then my mother, in a heartbreak, had died because of him. Or maybe it was like Reina once said: maybe my mother and I killed my father, but in return he killed a little bit of both of us. I kept thinking about it, but I suppose it didn’t matter what exactly had happened and who was to blame. The priest called my name. For days, I hadn’t been sure what I would say. But I would talk about heaven, and how I saw it in this church once. I would talk about God’s arms growing infinitely longer so as to be able to hold all of us in His embrace. And I would tell my story -about my mother and my father and me- and how in that story was all that I knew about love.


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