~ Heaven is A Place ~

Marriappilan is a small town on the outskirts of Minnesota. A place not too many people knew.

My father used to say there were many reasons Marriappilan was so quiet. He used to say that most of the time, because it's so small, it never drew that many tourists, and other times it was just a place of non-worshipers of God. Atheists, they would call themselves.

While my town was filled with atheists, my father being one of them, you and I were indecisive on our sacred paths. Thanks to our father, you weren't the religious type, but you had a little faith in the lord.

My father claimed Heaven was a place someone used to tell stories about to ensure people were making the right decisions. He claimed there was no proof of Heaven's existence. There was no sign a man named God ever created the earth.

So many people believed in a man they didn't know existed. Many people take an interest and believe in silly rules written in a book several years ago, claiming to be written for this man so that one day, you could end up in what they call Heaven.

Most people believe Heaven was in the clouds, but I didn't know where you were going. Part of me was a religious soul, but Dad didn't raise us to be sacred. I just was.

I also want to believe you will be a part of the earth when you die. There was no afterlife, no heaven, hell, or purgatory.

I found your diary on the dashboard of Dad's car the other day. He was abusive when drunk.

You left me a letter that led me to the woods. The same place we found you lying in the sunlight, under the willow tree we used to play.

You wrote:

If you find this letter, I will rest under our tree. Leave me to sleep. I am no longer in pain but in peace.

I bawled, finding Dad with a shotgun against his chin, guzzling half a dozen beers.

"I can't take this no more," he cried.

I soothed him, pulling his beer from him.

"Dad, please put down the gun," I urged.

I juggled the firearm between the two of us. The barrel clicked and pointed at me. There were two loud blows—one to me and one to my father's chin.

You were standing in the doorway, dressed in white, a sad scowl across your lips; you held my hand as you guided me into a field of glory.