Email from Heaven

I wrote this article in 1998, 9 months after my mother passed away after having suffered from Alzheimer's disease for 30 years. At the time, I decided against publishing it for fear of shocking some people whose view on death differs from mine. When I did publish it, I was pleasantly surprised by the positive response of my readers.

What in the world, or out of this world!

Crossing the Divide Traute has gone home to be with the Lord. She sends this email to her friends and asks that it be printed out for those who do not own a computer.

Just a note about the graphics:

If you are using a PC with MSIE, you can read the captions for the graphics by holding the mouse over them.

Here is her email:

My Arrival in Heaven

As soon as I arrived at heaven's gate, I was welcomed by my mother who had been waiting for me for nine months. That is exactly how long she had waited for me the first time. It was a most joyous reunion.

Jesus, the Light of Heaven The next person to greet me was my father. He had not noticed my arrival immediately, because he was once again busy directing a choir of saints. That had been his favorite occupation on earth, and he is enjoying it just as much now as ever.

Then, of course, I wanted to talk to Jesus. No one had to go looking for him, because his presence is everywhere in heaven. As soon as word got around heaven that I had arrived, saints came running to meet me. They had all heard of the little old lady who had upset a clergyman and shaken up a congregation by being so bold as to show love to little children. They all wanted to hug me at the same time to show me their approval for all those hugs which I had given away on earth, hugs which got me into trouble with the clergy.

Funeral Directions for My Family

Twilight of the Passing I don't want a funeral, even though I have always liked to participate in them on earth. I don't even want a memorial service, although I have loved attending them for other people. What's the use of having a party in my honor if I can't be there? If you people want to party, I suggest you join me in heaven. There is lots of partying here!

Plant a Tree in My Honor!

Basswood Tree on Notre Dame in Downtown Winnipeg If in the meantime you want to do something in my honor, I have a suggestion:

Plant a tree as a memorial to my life. Not just any tree, but a basswood tree. If you are German, you will know it by the name "Linde," and if you are British, the name "lime" is better known to you. Canadians, however, call it basswood. You can plant either of the two kinds which I have known on earth, the "North American linden tree" or the more fragrant "little leaf linden" which grows into a large shrub. It has smaller leaves and flowers.

Call Me a Basswood Tree!

Why a basswood tree? I would like people to say that my life on earth was like that of a basswood tree. Slow-growing and strong, a shelter in a storm. It will outlast many a generation of people. The flowers are beautifully fragrant, and they have the most distinctive, recognizable look. They even have a wing for flying. Or is it a sail to navigate over the waters of life?

Streams of Light The wood is even and smooth without graining. It is the most sought after by carvers. It has a lovely light golden color which does not darken with age. Even after the tree has been cut down, it will live on in the sculptures which are carved from its wood.

The basswood tree is the tree which is planted in paradise for the healing of the nations. The tea is made by simmering the flowers. It is the best remedy for whatever ails you. It will warm your body, causing you to perspire so that you can sweat out a disease. It also tastes better than any other tea. It does not even need sweetening. If the flowers are picked at their prime, they contain plenty of nectar.

Radiating Light You can recognize a basswood tree from a distance. It has the shape of an upside down heart. Not only that, but every leaf is formed in the shape of a heart. A very full, round heart. Not like that of the lilac which is more pointed. The heart became the symbol of my last days on earth, when I was known as the lady who buries birds and all of God's other little creatures and the lady who abuses children by hugging them.

Give a Hug in My Honor!

Ball of Light I have another suggestion for how you can honor my passing.

Make a vow to give a hug to a child or to someone lonesome every chance you get. Maybe you, too, can upset a clergyman and stir up a congregations!

Yea for the huggers! (See the related story "To Hug or Not to Hug," linked in the left column.)

Those basswood trees and those hugs will be a better memorial to me than a funeral. If all my friends on earth plant basswood trees, the earth will become a sweet-smelling place, and if they all hug one lonely person daily, the earth will smile.

Dust to Dust

Light above the Clouds Oh, you want to know what to do with my body? I don't care. I do not need it any more. Feed it to the worms or to the sharks or to the flames. It makes no difference to me. Just don't waste any money on it. And whatever you do, make sure that the remains are not kept in a place where people can go to visit them. I don't want them to get the idea that they are visiting me. I will never be in a grave. I am in heaven. If you want to visit me, you will have to join me here, because I certainly do not want to return to earth.

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© Traute Klein, biogardener
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