This short story is in honour of George's 60th birthday today — June 25th, 2023. I hope you enjoy it. xx

• • •

The soft breeze hits my face, as I slowly walk around; my natural reaction is to take in my surroundings as I go. The light, airy atmosphere is almost like that of a dream; the perfect bubblegum blue sky meets the emerald green grass harmoniously on the horizon. It's all familiar to me — and yet, by contrast, I don't recall ever bearing witness to such stunning scenery before in my lifetime. A sensation builds from within that I can't quite put my finger on; there is a feeling of apprehension, perhaps, and also one of serenity — put simply, one could say I'm content with where I am; but simultaneously, I am unsure why I am here. The fear of the unknown is powerful, and incredibly influential to one's perception.

Faintly, I hear several voices: each one asserting an eternal love with a heartbreaking fragility.

"I love you so much. Please never forget me."

It is unclear who the voices belong to; and also who the voices are addressing. Despite this, my instinctual reaction is to respond as if it's myself being spoken to.

"I love you." My vocal chords, to my surprise, aren't as strong as I recall them being; almost as though they are weakened.

The tearful speech of the mysterious individuals starts to gradually fade to nothingness, and a feeling of being alone sets in. Alas, I am given no time to reflect on this solitude — for a great white light burns from the sky; like an opening to the Heavens. A figure emerges, the silhouette partially blocking the blinding brightness above me. With squinted eyes, I try my best to figure out what is unfolding in front of me. The individual appears to step strategically upon the clouds, in such a way that they do not fall; as though they are lighter than the air itself. The closer to the ground they come, the easier it is to identify certain features of this person.

Most notably, the person is a man. He has a slender build and a tall frame; and dark chocolate locks of hair which float on the gentle winds; he has perfectly-arched brows; and chiselled facial features. He is, without a doubt, the epitome of perfection.

"You finally made it." He speaks with a hushed voice. "We've been waiting for you."

"What is this?" I ask, unable to quite believe who is stood before me. "Where is this?"

"Oh, darling — this is your new reality."

My eyes fill with tears of disbelief, as my surroundings finally start to make sense. "The voices ... they were—"

"Your loved ones, saying their goodbyes to you," he answers. "Who else would it be?"

"I'm on my way to Heaven, aren't I?" I ask him.

He simply nods in response. "You guessed it. It took you long enough, didn't it? Don't worry — you're in good hands with us. Nothing, and no-one can hurt you anymore."

"I never expected to see you here," I confess, admittedly awestruck. "Is there anybody else in Heaven that I get to meet?"

"Of course," he assures me. "Plenty of people. "There's a lot of other Lovelies for you to meet. You finally get to join the party up here."

"I can't wait to meet them, George."

"Please, call me Yog," he chuckles. "That's what my family and friends call me. You're one of us, now. Are you ready to come with me?"

The apprehension all but diminishes in an instant, as I smile. "Yes. I'm ready."

"Then let's do it." He outstretches his arm, inviting me towards him. "It's time to take you home."

Accepting the invitation, I take his hand in mine; his skin has a homely warmth to it, which eradicates the little nervousness that remained. Together, we walk towards the first step to the skies; and I feel a wave of peacefulness wash over me. A peacefulness, in the knowledge that I will remain forever in the company of someone I adore with my whole heart and soul.

The true meaning of Heaven.

• • •

Happy birthday, my angel. Eternally, I will love you. Always. I promise. xx