Communication

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I am a sentimental type. I don't burst into tears over everything, but sometimes I have been reduced to tears over things that I'm not entirely sure were supposed to have that effect.
TV commercials, the lyrics of a song, an expression my grandson makes.

Last night, I was leafing through a catalog that arrived in the mail yesterday, and I came across this poem called "If Tears Could Build a Stairway".

If tears could build a stairway, and memories a lane,
I would walk right up to heaven and bring you back again.

No farewell words were spoken, No time to say goodbye,
You were gone before I knew it, and only God knows why.

My heart still aches with sadness, and secret tears still flow,
What it meant to love you-no one can ever know.

But now I know you want me to mourn for you no more;
To remember all the happy times, life still has much in store.

Since you'll never be forgotten, I pledge to you today-
A hollowed place within my heart is where you'll always stay.

This is, undoubtedly, a beautiful poem. However, I have serious issues with the part that reads 'I'd walk right up to Heaven, and bring you back again'.

If I could walk right up to Heaven, there's no way I'd come back here. Heaven would have to toss me right out on my ear. When I get there, I plan on staying! Furthermore, I wouldn't wish for my loved ones to return here either.
No way would I 'walk right up to Heaven' to drag someone I loved away from God. They'd be kicking and screaming, begging me to please just leave them alone. What would I bring them back for? Back to this? That would be very selfish, don't you think? This isn't my, nor is it your, home. We are traveler's here. We're not staying very long. Home is with God. In Heaven. Think of this world as your local Econo Lodge. It's temporary. Like the life you have while you are here. Temporary. Heaven is permanent. Thank you, Jesus!

I have spoken of my young niece Katie, who was killed five months ago. I would give anything to see that beautiful smile she was so proud of (after her braces came off), to hear her
happy, yakkity, yakkity, yak, in my ear. I
don't understand why she died so young, but I totally trust that God knows. Whether I do or not is completely irrevelant. No way would I try to separate her from her much loved Jesus.

Have people, in their sentimentalism, lost their minds? How crazy do these words seem when you really think of them? Pretty crazy, if you ask me.

Of course we miss and will forever remember and love those we know who have gone on. I would love to be able to ask my grandmother why I can't seem to find the secret ingredient she used in her vegetable soup, the one I have tried to recreate for the past thirteen years. I would love to talk to my father and ask him why things were as they were when I was young. I would love to see my step-father's special look, the one he always had when he looked at me, I would love to see my old friends, and my aunts and uncles, and everyone who got to leave before me. I know I will, when it is time for me to leave.

But to 'walk right up to heaven, and bring them back again'?

Never.

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