The Other Side of Heaven by Jacqueline Druga

decision.
    In order for me to have my moment
with my son, my heart had to stop beating. To me, that was a huge risk, so I
took precautions. I sat down and wrote letters to my children, husband and
other family and friends. Letters that would say what I felt, how I felt about
them, just on the chance I didn’t come back.
    Another decision I had come to, aside
from going and writing the letters, was not to not be in the house when my
children were. If I suddenly dropped, it was something they didn’t need to see.
I wanted to be out of the home. I gave them an extra long and tight hug before
school, and using my nervous energy, I cleaned the house and started dinner in
the crock-pot.
    Arthur was my assurance and he
arrived the night before. That was tough to explain to the kids, so I told them
he didn’t have water at his house. The lines were down. They accepted that.
    After the kids left, the house
was clean, I started my prepping of dinner. From the kitchen I could hear the
television in the living room. It was on the station I usually watched. Arthur
didn’t change the channel, he probably couldn’t find the remote.
    Or maybe he thought I wanted the
show on.
    “Arthur?” I called to him. ‘You
don’t need to watch that.” I continued chopping the last of the onions. My eyes
burned and I tried not to rub them. “Arthur? You alright?”
    “I think he’s sleeping.”
    Stop.
    The knife dropped from my hand.
    “Did you just hear me?”
    I slowly lifted my head. No, it
wasn’t happening. I was still cutting vegetables, there was no flashing lights,
the television was playing. I could feel my heart beating. Surely if I died, it
wouldn’t beat.
    “Mom?”
    Slowly I started to look back to
the voice that came from behind me, half way through my turn, I saw Ben
standing at my side.
    His eyes widened and he nearly
stepped back. “You see me,” he said with shock. “You see me? Hear me?”
    I couldn’t speak. My body shot
into a series of tremors and I thought I was having a seizure. My legs were
weak and a shock of nervous vibes rippled in my gut and up my chest. I didn’t
say a word, I reached out with my trembling hand. The second my fingertips hit
the solid feel of his chest, I gasped out a near scream, grabbed hold of my
child, and clutched him to me with all of my heart and soul.
    When I felt him against me, my
arms wrapped tighter, and I just cried. I didn’t want to let go, I couldn’t
speak, I had lost that ability. Groaning out with each sob, I clutched him and
raised my eyes to the ceiling, mouthing the words, ‘Thank you.’
    Without moving, I absorbed the
moment. A part of me needed to see him and I stepped from his embrace, touched
his face, and looked into my son’s eyes. I needed to look at his face and see
him well and healthy. Standing before me , he was everything I remembered of my
child before the accident.
    “This wasn’t supposed to happen
like this,” I said. “Unless … am I dead?”
    “I … I don’t know. What are you
talking about?”
    “I was supposed to get one more
…” The smell of freshly cut onions seeped under my nose and I realized I wasn’t
dead. Something else was going on. I was getting my chance but not how I
expected. “I was supposed to get one more moment with you.”
    Ben smiled.
    Oh my God, how I missed that
smile. It didn’t just light up a room, it lit up my soul.
    “Mom, I was the one who was
supposed to get one more moment with you. Well, rather, a moment you can see
and hear me.”
    I was trying to make sense of it
while not losing a second of our moment. “What are you talking about. There was
a woman who died. She came back and was told she had to pick …”
    “Five people to resolve to give
peace.”
    “Yes,” I nodded. “People from all
over reached out to her, telling her their stories in hopes she would pick
them.”
    “Wait. An alive person?” he
asked.
    “Yes.”
    “How was that supposed to
happen?”
    “They would die