This past June 21st marked the second anniversary of the death of my friend Laura, whom those of you who have been following this blog for some time know something about. The day dawned cool and clear, which in itself was something extraordinary, since by the beginning of summer the days are usually very hot around here. The year before it actually rained on that day, something unheard of in late June in this neck of the woods. So this year, with the extraordinarily cool and fresh weather, I guessed that Laura was praying for us, giving a little sign that all is well with her—and possibly letting us know, since she had made a few retreats here during the summertime, that she remembers the discomfort of those 112-degree days and was glad to intercede for some fresher weather for us!
Such anniversaries get me to thinking about life and death and life after death. Laura had been my
best friend in this world (to the extent that a monk can have a “best friend”). And so, of course (in my “Murphy’s-Law” perspective), she was the one who had to get cancer and die. Knowing that she had repented of her sins and earnestly served the Lord in the last years of her life, and died with the sacraments and much prayer, I wasn’t freaking out over the possible loss of her soul. Yet bodily death and the immortality of the soul are mysteries not easily comprehended, and there’s much that remains unknown. I trust she is in Heaven, but I can’t wrap my little brain around the concept. It almost seems too good to be true. It’s hard to imagine someone you knew on earth suddenly being transported to a place of unearthly glory and beauty and joy, freed from all their sufferings and sorrows, and being wholly transformed in the process. They really can’t be quite the same anymore, despite the necessary continuity with who they were on earth. And it may be that there’s not much anymore that they could say to us that we have the capacity to understand, though I’m sure they would if we were able to grasp it.
There’s also a certain irony in this case, since Laura had questions about the spiritual life, and some doubts and struggles concerning the mystery of God and the life of the world to come. I helped her as much as I could, and she grew in her faith and life in God. Yet now she has no questions, but I do. Now she sees face to face and I’m still trying to walk in faith. Now she has a wholly different perspective as she lives in the Ultimate Reality, of which I can at best have only fleeting and incomplete glimpses. “Hey, help me out here,” I’d like to say to her; “give me some sort of confirmation, some sort of better insight into the mysteries that you, who used to come to me for help, suddenly know so well!”
I did receive something of a confirmation, at least about her place in Heaven. I can’t expect to have her just appear to me and answer all my questions (though I’m quite open to that, if God would permit it!), so I asked the Lord if He would let her use his word to say something to me. And He did. I opened up the Bible and the two pages I saw contained the better part of chapters 13-14 of the Gospel of St Matthew (the following quotes will all be from there).
The first thing was an assurance that the Lord had heard my prayer, that He was letting her tell me she was indeed with Him and trying to communicate to me now: “Take heart, it is I; have no fear…” Well, that got my attention! This was followed, of course, by a mild reproach to the effect that I should have known by now that she was safe in Heaven: “O man of little faith, why did you doubt?” (I could have said, “That’s easy for you to say from where you are now; I’m still down here groping around in the dark!”—but I didn’t.) Evidently everything is so darn clear when you’re walking in the fields of Paradise! That’s why up there they always pray that we hurry up and get over all our foolishness, because they know how important it is that we get busy with hearing the word of God and keeping it—without whining, procrastinating, excuse-making, etc.
But there is much more, and this too made it clear to me that she was speaking from Heaven. For it was all about Heaven: “The Kingdom of Heaven is like a grain of mustard seed… The Kingdom of Heaven is like leaven… The Kingdom of Heaven is like a treasure, hidden… The Kingdom of Heaven is like a merchant searching for fine pearls…” These are important parables for understanding the Kingdom, but what is it like to be there? Certainly it’s beyond human language to describe, but she at least gave me this to reflect upon: “The righteous will shine like the sun in the Kingdom of their Father.” And finally, as if saying “a word to the wise is sufficient”: “He who has ears, let him hear.” Laura had entitled the online journal of her last months, Prepare for the Kingdom (and I used the same title for “our” book). She must have done just that, for now she’s telling me all about what the Kingdom is like!
Needless to say, that made my day, but there was still more. There was one other “word” that I had to ponder: “Blessed are your eyes, for they see, and your ears, for they hear.” It has been my contention all along that I’m too blind and deaf to know anything about the Kingdom of Heaven or any of the divine mysteries. But it’s as if she were trying to say that I see more than I think I do. It is in fact true that anyone who believes in God is already light years ahead of anyone who doesn’t. And anyone who is trying to live according to the Gospel “sees” and “hears” more than anyone who isn’t. Even those who wrestle unsuccessfully with the divine mysteries are still in a better position than those don’t take the trouble to attend to them.
There were still blessings to come on that day, which one may or may not attribute to Laura’s intercession, but since one may, I do. After the Divine Liturgy, which I offered for the repose of her soul, a friend of ours—whom Laura had befriended during the times she had stayed at the monastery—was so moved by God’s grace during the prayers after Holy Communion that he wept, which he had never done before (he wasn’t aware it was the anniversary of Laura’s death). Later, his wife told me: “I’ve been waiting 30 years for that to happen.”
So there was more joy in this second anniversary than there was in the first. I still find it hard to imagine Laura standing in the indescribable glory of God and sharing in all the delights of Paradise, in utter happiness and fulfillment. I still only know her as I knew her here below, but I shouldn’t judge the reality of the Kingdom of Heaven within the confines of my own severe limitations. Just 
because I can’t imagine what it’s like for her to be in Heaven doesn’t mean I shouldn’t believe in it. Is that really little Laura up there in the glorious City of God, in the midst of angels and saints, wearing the shimmering white robe of her victory and rejoicing in the presence of the Creator of the universe, the Savior of the world? Hey, I knew her when…
Despite the sorrow of loss when a loved one dies, it is a blessing to have a “connection” when the loved one departs for Heaven. They can help us in ways we don’t know and can’t imagine, and they are helping us prepare for the Kingdom. Ineffable joy and glory await us. It may all be much more than we deserve, but even so, it’s not too good to be true. For nothing is too good to be true when we are speaking of what God has prepared for those who love Him. There may be in this world various subjective or perceived “goods” that can be false or deceptive. But in an objective or absolute sense, whatever is good is necessarily true—all the more so for God, who is the ultimate Good and hence the ultimate Truth. Heaven, the eternal dwelling place of God, is thus an absolute good. Therefore it is absolutely true!
