Life’s Work in Heaven

After these many months of having inside information about the afterlife, I’ve discovered how oddly similar Heaven is to the earthly plane. Aside from the fact that you have no body and have greater abilities to manifest what you want immediately, so may aspects seem the same. Discarnate souls can have homes, material possessions, and even spouses and families. It’s as if Heaven is simply a parallel dimension nestled right on top of our very limited, three-dimensional, five sensory one.

Many physicists now believe that souls and the afterlife merely operate at a higher frequency of energy with a velocity much faster than that of light. Since we are limited to the visible spectrum as far as what we can perceive as “real,” it’s not wonder the world is littered with skeptics. But think about it: we can’t see love but we all know it exists. We can feel it deep in our souls. So it’s entirely possible that Heaven is simply another reality beyond our limited perception that offers all of the same opportunities and experiences we have here on Earth–and much more.

To delve into this further, I ask Erik a few broad questions:

‘Do souls have some sort of specialty in the afterlife, like a life’s work?’

“Sure, all of us have different gifts and talents,” he replies as though the question is pointless and silly.

‘So, what’s your life’s work over there?’

“Right now? It’s bringing to light the story of teen suicide.”

‘Oh, okay.’

“But the story needs to be about more than teen suicide. My life’s work now is teaching and healing just like yours is. It’s about helping not only kids in their teens but also up to about 25. So from about 12 to 25. You need to have characters in the screenplay in those different age ranges,” Erik points out.

‘Okay, well…’ I start.

“I feel totally excited and focused on this; I feel fulfilled! Mom, Mom, Mom! I feel like a have this sense of calm and peacefulness!” he exclaims with exuberance.

‘I guess that makes sense, because now you’re sort of paying a karmic debt. You’re giving back by helping others, right?’ I reply, like I have all the answers now. Yeah right.

“Of course, but I still wouldn’t have had that calm and peace here in Heaven if I hadn’t had any therapy over here. People need to know you don’t magically feel that peacefulness emotionally once you’re back in Heaven. Sometimes you feel a whole lot more pain than when you were on Earth. That’s what we need to make clear in the screenplay, Mom,” he says.

‘Oh, okay,’ I say, realizing that my brilliant karmic debt idea was not the whole story.

“This is not just ‘Oh, I’m a spirit! Everything is happiness and light! Ooooh!’ It’s all about healing. You can run from this shit but you can’t hide. You’ve gotta do the healing. And sometimes the healing is easier to do on Earth, but people don’t realize that. So we’re gonna help them learn that, Mom, aren’t we?

‘Good! I’m with you all the way, Erik,’ I assure him.

“I’m also involved in this, um, I’m helping my neighbor, this really cute girl, build a deck at her home,” he adds hesitantly. Do I smell a crush?

‘Oh, good!’

“Yeah, and I’ve got a motorcycle, a boat, a car. I like to work with the engine. I’ve taken up cooking too.”

My mind drifts back to fond memories of Erik concocting some amazingly creative dishes. His favorite was scrambled eggs in Tandoori sauce, but a close second was Eggs Benedict swimming in Hollandaise. Then I remember how concerned I was that he’d develop heart disease at an early age from all the butter and cream he used. How ridiculously silly those worries seem to me now.

‘So you can work with your hands? It’s not a matter of thought creating reality like you think about the deck and it appears and you think about a recipe and it’s made?’ I ask.

“Uh, uh.”

‘I mean you can hammer in the nails and…’

“Yeah, I have the choice of either, but I like to work with my hands. Most people over here like to work with their energy instead of manifesting everything they want. They like to work with physical energy cuz then you feel a sense of achievement,” he explains.

‘Yeah, exactly,’ I say, glad to find that Erik’s love for working with his hands could be requited.

As I write this post, I compare the relationship I have with Erik now to the one I had with him before his death. In many ways, it’s not much different, apart from the starkly lacking physical affection. In life, I did everything I could to guide him toward a fulfilling life. I so longed for him to feel a sense of purpose, of relevance, of contribution. But all the tools and encouragement and opportunities seemed wasted, because he never seemed interested in the future. It was all about the moment for him. Maybe deep inside he knew there would be no future, at least here on Earth. You can drag a horse to the water but…

Today, I still long to guide him toward personal fulfillment. I believe this quest to reveal the bitter reality behind suicide–to debunk the myth that it eliminates all pain and replaces it with peace and joy–is his new calling. As I did while he was alive, I will do anything to facilitate and encourage him to reach that karmic goal so that he can find the peace and personal satisfaction he deserves at long last.

No longer in my arms, but always in my heart, my darling son.

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Elisa Medhus


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