CHAPTER 1
The Door Opens
There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in yourphilosophy.
—Shakespeare
A door to the afterlife opens, revealing a whole new world of intrigue, hope, and wonder.The possibility of heaven captures our imagination. Some people occasionally peekthrough the portal to satisfy fleeting bursts of fascination. Others step inside, only todiscover a lasting, and sometimes all-consuming, adventure. I, however, was propelledthrough on my very first day of school.
"Hello, I'm Mrs. Apple, your first grade teacher," she said as she ushered each of us to ourseats. When every desk was taken, she stood in front of the room with her hands on herhips. "Listen, boys and girls. Shhh, I want to tell you something." Mter the bustling hadsubsided, she leaned over and reached into a bag beside her desk. Then up she poppedwith a cockeyed grin and an apple in her hand. "My name is Mrs. Apple, just like this," shesaid, pointing to the piece of fruit. We all laughed at her animation. "I'm your teacher thisyear. This is where I'll sit," she said, placing the edible on her desk. "My son goes toschool here too, just down the hall. He's in the second grade. Now I want each of you tostand up, say your name, and tell us something about you and your family."
A boy in the first row jumped up and down in his chair, "Me! Me! Me!" he yelled. Althoughhe was the smallest child in our class, his enthusiasm pulsated throughout the room."Okay, okay," Mrs. Apple said with a giggle, "you go first."
"I'm Jimmy!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet.
"Good, Jimmy," Mrs. Apple encouraged as she sat behind her desk. "Continue."
"My grandpa died and then he came into my room and went by my bucket of—"
"Who came into your room?" Mrs. Apple interrupted, leaning forward in her chair.
Protruding his chest proudly, Jimmy answered, "My grandpa!"
"But you said he died," she inquired.
"Yes ma'am. But, but, but ... he came to my room."
Mrs. Apple wrinkled her nose, "Huh?"
"You know ... I'm talking 'bout his ghost," he explained.
"Oh, don't be silly," she scolded, twisting her mouth to one side.
Jimmy's eyes grew large. Dropping his head, he murmured, "But I'm not being silly. Hewas in my room by my bucket of—"
"Sit down," she snapped with her brows furrowed.
Jimmy sank to his chair. Oh ... look at him, I thought, as I watched him trying to fight backtears. Why was she so mean to him? And besides, I wanted to hear what happened. Whywouldn't she let him talk?
But talk, Jimmy didn't. He did not utter a word, not for the rest of the morning or even whilemoving through the noisy, chattering, cafeteria lunch line. He appeared so downtroddenthat I made certain to sit beside him. My numerous attempts to engage him inconversation seemed to be going nowhere, but then he leaned his shoulders toward me. "Ireally did see my grandpa," he murmured, keeping his eyes on his tray of food. I insertedmy head between his face and plate, giving him no choice but to look at me. Flashing ahalf-tooth smile, I asked, "What happened?"
"Well," he whispered, "I was in my room when I saw my grandpa by my bucket of toys. Hesmiled and waved at me and I smiled and waved at him. Then he left."
Along with Jimmy, I relived his brief encounter, trying to imagine what it would be like tosee a real ghost.
That evening, as usual, my family and I were gathered around the supper table, eatingand leisurely discussing our day. Tonight was special, however, because this had beenmy introduction to school. My parents eagerly cast questions about the teachers andstudents. Their excitement fell to a hush, however, as I recounted Jimmy's attempt todescribe his afterlife visitation during class and then our private lunchroom exchange. Mysister chastised, "That's so weird—you're so weird—just plain old weird." Dad glared ather, then smiled at me. With that, we went on to other subjects—that is, until later.
Similar to other children, I concluded my evenings with a bedtime story. Unlike otherparents, however, my dad never read stories from books. Instead, he either createdspontaneous tales or narrated actual events from his life. This night Dad recounted a truestory that involved his sister and her husband, Harry.
Your mother, Aunt Lu, Uncle Harry, and I drove to the Chicago World's Fair in the summerof 1933. In those days, the fairs introduced the latest gadgets and inventions. We listenedto music from strange new instruments, and we tasted food we'd never heard of. Therewere displays, and rides, and light shows ... well ... we couldn't do it all if we'd stayed aweek. We were having a grand old time when the darnedest thing happened.
There were these fortune-tellers lined up along the boardwalk. Your mother and Lu startedgiggling and teasing each other, "Go get your fortune told!"
"After you, little missy!"
"You first, dearie."
They were getting the biggest kick out of those fortune-tellers. We kept on walking along,but this one started yelling at us as we passed her, "Hey! You! Come here! I've got animportant message for you!"
The girls elbowed one another, laughing, "What're ya waiting for?"
But the woman was serious ... and was looking straight at your Uncle Harry. "Please.Please, sir," she said, "Listen to me. I've got an important message for you." Lu pulled atthe back of Harry's shirt, trying to get him to turn around. She said, "She's talking to youHarry. Go on over there. See what she's got to say." But Harry ignored her and just keptwalking down the boardwalk.
Then the fortune-teller yelled, "Your wife's calling you, 'Harry ... Harry,' she says." We didn'tknow what to think. Lu said, "Harry, how can that woman be calling your name?" Harrydidn't even look at your Aunt Lu, so she ran around in front of him. "You know her?" Heshook his head No and kept walking. But the fortuneteller yelled louder, "Your wife andlittle baby are here. Their eyes and hair and skin are dark; beautiful, both of them ... andshe wants me to tell you, 'Harry, it's me, Ernestine. Harry, I'm so sorry.'" Your Uncle Harrydidn't say one word—he just turned around and went back to the fortune-teller's table andsat down. Well, we had to know what was going on, so we followed him and sat down atthe table too.
The woman said, "She's giving me a message—I'll give it to you. 'Harry, I'm fine now andso is Andrew. We're together. Oh Harry, I'm so sorry for what I did, especially for takingour son with me. I was wrong. Can you ever forgive me? I didn't know what I was doing. Iwasn't thinking straight. I was wrong. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me.'"
I could see your Uncle Harry was shook up. He just sat there,...
