I Died and Went to Heaven

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I died and went to heaven

and here I am.

I’ve been here for awhile

(although I don’t know what “awhile’ is,

you see, there’s no time keeping in eternity

is there? How could there be?). 

But I’ve been here long enough 

to get tired of the music.

Of course, it’s not just harps playing

eternally

as I originally thought it would be

right? harp, harps, harps … and more harps.

But no, it’s not harps (I think?)

tho’ frankly I don’t know what instruments are playing;

in fact, it may not be an instrument at all?

Anyway, I mention all this because

this music is getting tedious 

and I wish the powers-that-be would change it.

The same thing

night & day

well, really there’s no night & day in heaven, 

night & day was earthly life, right?

And so, realizing that this heaven-thing is to go on

forever

well, this tedious music is going to

just

drive me crazy.

Sort of the heavenly version 

of elevator music, I suppose.

But I guess it’s better than the alternative

down there, as they say up here

metaphorically speaking;

and hence there’s no celestial trap door,

for if there were I would occasionally open it

peer down and look for friends and enemies.

Oh look, there’s Sally Kronicker

who mercilessly bullied me in school. 

“So Sally, you somvgvh fulcmmk yohngdff.”

Gosh, you can’t even swear in heaven!

How weird is that?

Well, I bet there’s lots of swearing going on

down there, eh? 

Huh? Sally, you bitch!

And then there’s the food— 

well not really food 

because that was earthy stuff too

and ultimately it turns to 

shbvvitte shivvvttt shltebb 

oh yeah, can’t say that word here either.

Well, put it this way

there are no bathrooms in heaven, okay?

I mean, you don’t even have to bathe 

or brush your teeth, or even look for pimples. 

And there’s no stray hairs to worry about.

So, getting back to the food,

it’s not really food 

but you get a sense of something pleasant

coming into your— 

I was going to say body 

but there’s no body— 

so this pleasant something comes 

into your Being

yeah, that’s it

your Being, and it feels

so, good

soo good

sooo good

I guess it’s really like 

sex on earth

like a really good fcounkjjj—  

but no, no—not really, 

no, it’s not like that at all.

Well, it’s hard to explain 

like everything else here 

earthly words just don’t work anymore.

Except for when we talk of 

what’s not here:

like

no sickness, no pain

and thank God

(can I say that here?

hum, I guess so)

thank God, no migraines!

Woohoo.

Although the other day

(or whatever you may call some time ago)

I realized that I missed a good sneeze,

I did, yes

just one good sneeze would “make my day”

er, well, “make my instant of being.”

Or, say, an itch, or being tickled— 

ya know, I need a good laugh,

yeah, a really good laugh.

Would you believe that 

there’s little humour in heaven.

Very serious & solemn here. Who knew?

Of course, I could go on

and on

and on

since, ya know,

I have an eternity of time to write this stuff

and so I need to stop somewhere 

otherwise

well, you get the drift,

and indeed if you are still reading this,

well, that makes me very happy 

yeah, you can still be happy in heaven

and so far I’ve not met anyone sad,

not yet,

but come to think of it

if this music doesn’t change soon

I’m going to get grumpy

ya see

real grumpy

even in heaven

grumpy, grumpy, g-r-u-m-p-y …

Oh, listen,

the powers have changed the music, I think,

yes, indeed, it sounds like,

I don’t believe it, it’s

the fourth movement of Mahler’s 9th symphony. 

Is this just for me? How do they know

it’s one of my favorite melodies?

Can the powers hear my thoughts?

Well, I guess they can since 

I’m here  

not down there.

Well, this is heaven, and I guess I got here

since they knew much minutia of my life, 

like 

when I was bad  

and 

when I was good

right?

Oh, how beautiful the music is. 

When I listened to it on earth,

I would often call it "heavenly music”— 

who knew that was more than a metaphor, eh?—

but I also would often cry tears of joy 

when listening to it.

Oh, can I cry in heaven? 

Or is that a no-no too? 

Well, yes I am, sort of crying …

even without my body, I feel the same sensation as 

crying, I think. 

Tears of joy, bliss, ecstasy.

Funny thing about crying:

serves two purposes, 

both on Earth and here

in Heaven.

Oh, surely there is only

one purpose

for crying

down there, 

for sure.

Makes me think:

maybe I can meet Mahler here?

Talk to him about his music. 

If, that is, he is here,

not down there.

Oh, how ironic that would be,

he’s down there  

and 

his music is playing up here.

An eternal irony, for sure?

Let’s see,

what other music can I wish for?

Ah well, maybe this heaven place 

isn’t so boring after all.

But gosh, I wish,

for God’s sake,

I wish I could swear— 

at least

once in a while. 

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Dee Artea lives in Winnipeg, Canada. For Dee, the act of writing ever entails amusement and gratification.

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