I found a handwritten poem tucked in her Bible. I didn’t know when she might’ve penned it, but it was worn and crumpled and it looked like something she might have spent a good deal of time with.

I bow and I rise, a child of the skies,
with glory and grace in my soul.

A broken disguise, a sudden surprise,
a heart fully, finally whole.

A secret that grows, a shadow that knows
where grace and mystery dwell.

A heaven that glows, a Savior who rose
and tumbled the towers of hell.

After reading it, I went for a long walk carrying the umbrella that we’d met underneath, once upon a time.

It wasn’t raining, and I didn’t care.

++++

Tessa wasn’t normally a ring wearer, but she wore one now—the ring her mom had given to her, the wedding band that Patrick had bought for her.

When her mom first asked her to take it, Tessa had told her there was no way she wanted it, but her mother had said, “Why would I want to get buried wearing this? I want you to have it.”

“Don’t even talk like that. You’re not gonna be buried for a long time. You’re gonna be alright.”

“Humor me. Wear it, please. It doesn’t fit me anymore, anyhow. It’s too big now.”

Tessa wore the ring on her right hand’s ring finger. Sometimes, she ran her thumb along the edge of it just to feel something solid, real, lasting, that had been her mom’s. She wasn’t sure how long she was going to wear it, but she knew she was going to keep it until the day she died.

++++

Every week after her death, Tessa and I went to Christie’s grave. The first two times we didn’t really say anything, but on the third trip, Tessa asked me quietly if I believed in heaven.

“That’s a hard question.”

“No. It’s an easy one. All you need to do is answer it.”

I wasn’t sure how to put this. “I believe in justice, and for that there must be a hell. And I believe in mercy.”

“And for that there must be a heaven.”

“Yes.”

“So you do?”

“Well, I can’t prove that heaven is real, but—”

“I didn’t ask you to prove it.”

“I know, but—”

“Do you believe?”

“Yes. I’d say that I do.”

“Mom did too.”

“I know.” Silence. “And you?”

She shrugged. “If I didn’t, I don’t know how I could ever have any kind of hope.”

I was quiet.

“So Mom’s there now. She’s not gone. Not forever.”

“That’s right.”

The air was warm, but winter’s grip was still on the city. Spring hadn’t yet been able to overcome it.

“What happens now?” Tessa asked.