Not for the human heart, though.
In the weeks following Georgie’s death I couldn’t allow myself to imagine heaven as I knew my imagination, even my wildest imaginations, could not do it justice. My heart had this deep and intricate and intimate perception of what heaven looks like but my brain, my inner eye couldn’t imagine it, couldn’t “see” it.
Go on Google and type in “heaven images” and you will understand what I mean. Your soul will be totally dissatisfied with the images it sees because it knows that heaven cannot be rendered in images. Its magnificence and glory cannot be portrayed by any drawing.
Have I told you before that on the night Georgie died, the very moment he transitioned from this earth to the heavenly realm, I heard almost audible clapping?
You can call me delusional or grief-stricken or plain exhausted but I know in my heart, in my spirit, that Heavens were roaring with cheering and clapping when my baby boy entered Heaven.
I know that he was welcomed by his Father and told: “Well done, baby boy, well done.”
Well done for living to the full. For bringing so much joy to your mama. For loving so much from such a tiny heart. For taking almost everything that came your way with a big smile. For showing everybody how life is meant to be lived.
Following Georgie’s non-healing, his suffering and his death, I was left with questions. So many questions.
One that kept coming to my mind was: “How does he look like now?”
I know that the body I loved so much, his tiny little frame is no longer. I made my mind accept this reality very early on.
But I guess my heart needed to know how “the real Georgie”, as Emma puts it so beautifully, is.
So last week, during one of my morning walks, I asked God.
And He answered.
He said: “He is both.”
He is both innocent, just like he used to be as a sweet baby but his soul is aware of where he is and fully capable of worship and praise.
He is both the smiling, gurgling, inquisitive boy I came to adore but also a mighty soul, lifting the heaven’s lid with the strength of his praise and adoration.
He is both gentleness of spirit and strength of character.
I still don’t understand. Why the ultimate sacrifice had to be made. Why not “only” illness. Why not “only” disability but actually death.
Death is so…final. So…devastating.
All I know (and this coming from the heart of a Father who lost His son too), is that the pain of the whole experience could not be diluted this time. There was no negotiation to be done. Only the ultimate finality satisfied in this case.
I still don’t know…
Until my final day, my only option remains…to imagine.
To imagine in my heart how things will be like in eternity.
How that first hug will feel like.
How that first week in heaven will be spent.