The Reality of Heaven

As a Christian we know heaven exists. We read the accounts in the Bible describing it. And we are confident in knowing that Jesus really does go to to prepare a place for us. But it isn't until the day you lose someone you love as much as life, that it becomes a reality. 

Becoming a widow brought an entirely new perspective of eternity. The moment I walked into the hospital room and saw his lifeless body I knew the truth of our three part being: spirit, soul and body. There was his body, empty, void; a shell that once cased my husband. The actually body wasn't what I loved, it was his spirit, the real man. And that day his spirit departed. "To be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord." (2 Corinthians 5:8) I know that heaven is a reality and my husband is there. He is not the body he left behind, he is the man, the spirit that lives forever in glory. 

Despite my knowledge of this truth, I still feel compelled to honor his body. At the funeral and visitation I couldnt stop touching him. Weird, I know. I had never touched a dead body until his. And I couldnt stop. I kept playing with his hair, holding his hands, and I kept right by His side. At the very last moment I kissed his forehead one last time. I know it's just a shell, but that shell housed the man I loved and it meant something to me. 

In my visits to the cemetery I often wonder why I'm even there, because I know that Jonathan isn't. His spirit isn't there. He's in heaven with our savior Jesus. Even so, I still go. I still visit on important occasions or when I feel the need. And I talk to him. I often wonder if God allows him to see. If God shows him the times I cry at his grave, or if God let's him hear what I'm saying. I'm not certain that He does. But there is something healing in going. There's a healing that occurs when I talk to him or when I cry.  It's my way of getting closure. His grave is a frame of reference. Someplace I can go to identify with my husband, and the loss. 

Since his death I've had moments of great accomplishment, that he never would have believed.  Oddly, if he were here, these accomplishments never would have happened. Moments like  finishing my first half marathon, or repelling down a 4 story building. I want him to see, so I ask God to open up heaven and show him.  

I know if he could see me now he'd be so proud!  Even if he never sees my victories, I ask God anyway.  Even if he never hears a word I say, I speak anyway. If he never sees a tear I cry, I cry anyway.