We lost one. A close one. We saw it coming, but sometimes, if a thing moves slowly enough, it still sneaks up on you. I learned this long ago, when I lost a father. Times like this bring a clarity––a clear eye to see there is a better way to be human, a way that transcends all of our ancient addictions to beating down, grabbing, clutching and winning and winning and winning at all costs.  

Death is a necessary part of life––another way of saying losing is a necessary part of winning. We know it deep down, but we behave as though we don’t. No one celebrates a loss, and no one champions a loser. 

The only certainty in life is death.

Death knocks.

Death follows.

Death always wins. 

True, true, true, and true, but not the whole truth. Not nothing but the truth. 
When we lose one in that slow, sneaky way, it is common to see the world through death colored glasses. 

I think often these days of heaven and hell and how many of us pretend to know so much of the unknowable. I think it’s true what the philosophers say––the only thing you can know for certain is your own experience. 

I experienced heaven today. It wasn’t a castle in the sky. There were no streets of gold, no chorus of angels.  

Heaven was a tender light shining through death’s veil. A calm moment in the aftermath of hell. The joyful song of child laughter. Vision of humanity soaring with wings like a dove. 

Heaven was shalom.

Beauty. 

Life, resurrected.