DEAR SEAN:
I just lost my mom, and now I have some hard decisions to make. I feel so lost and broken, I have been trying my best, but I feel like I failed. I was wondering if you had any advice on dealing with the loss of my mom.
Thanks,
BROKEN-IN-KANSAS
DEAR KANSAS:
The imaginary scenario I’m about to describe is going to sound far-fetched and weird. So just humor me.
But first, I want you to breathe. Seriously. Before you read another word.
In. Out. Big. Soft. Long. Deep. Breaths. Relax your jaw. Loosen your shoulders. Turn into a big blob of Jello pudding.
Seeeeeee the pudding. Beeeee the pudding.
Good.
What I want you to do is visualize a large white world. Not white like cotton sheets or snow. But white like sunlight. Like staring at the noon sun with eyes wide open.
White light is everywhere within this new world. In fact, you aren’t even sure how big this new space is because it’s too bright to see anything. It could be the size of a closet, or it could be bigger than Asia. No way to know.
At first the light hurts your eyes. It gives you a headache. And it doesn’t let up. It just gets stronger until it singes your hair and burns your skin.
Eventually, the brightness works its way into you. Past your adipose tissue, vascular system, kidneys, and spleen. It bores into muscle and bone and finally gets down into the Real You.
The Real You is an interesting thing. I don’t want to get all hooky spooky here, but think about it. A person’s soul is literally inside their body, but no surgeon can find it. No one can point to your ribcage and say, “Ah, yes, your soul’s right there. Just to the left of your colon.”
So for the purposes of this imaginary scene, right now, let’s pretend the Unseeable You is no longer attached to your rickety body.
Because here, in this place, there are no human bodies. Only brightness.
And it’s a glorious feeling, being here. You start to feel so good you can’t stand it. You feel better than you’ve felt in your entire life.
Suddenly you realize that this place is better than life ever was.
Have you ever noticed how merely being alive is difficult? Sometimes, life is nothing but sensory overload. It never quits moving, changing, pulsating. Neither do people.
Your heart is always pumping. Your muscle fibers always twitch. Even when you sleep your joints are deteriorating. It makes me tired just thinking about it.
Even your own happiness can be exhausting. Happiness is nothing but a form of stress. Certainly, winning the lottery is good stress, but it’s still stress. And it will wear your butt out.
But it’s not like that up here. Wherever “here” is. This is the most relaxation you’ve ever known. Here there is peace. Here there is rest.
Oh, and you’re flying, too. Like Superman. You’re zipping around like a gnat on Mountain Dew. What a thrill. You could do this for a million years.
Soon, your eyes begin to adjust to the light. You’re starting to see landmarks on the ground beneath you.
And, whoa, this place is huge. There are rivers the size of the Milky Way. There are trees bigger than Jupiter. Lakes, meadows, mountains, vanilla-ice-cream clouds.
And there is something in the air. It’s all around you. It’s some version of oxygen. You’re breathing it. Only it’s not air. It tastes like sticky buns. Like cinnamon cookies, and warm, melty peanut butter. Like Oreos and chocolate milk.
You recognize the aroma, whatever it is. It tastes familiar. You used to experience this stuff on Earth sometimes. You’d get a whiff whenever a child would hug you. When you rescued a shelter dog, you caught this scent. When you gave a few bucks to a homeless guy, you smelled this.
Love. That’s what this stuff is.
And it is plentiful here. In fact, one could argue, this whole new world is built from love. So was our old world, but we humans didn’t want to see it.
But you see it now. Every pine tree, serpentine creek, sprout of hay, spear of light, and whale-backed mountain. Love. Love. Love. And more love.
Your journey is abruptly stopped. Mid-flight.
What’s that you see in the distance?
Is it a silhouette? Yes. It looks like a person.
Someone is waving at you.
It’s a she. A female. You recognize her.
You knew this woman once. She looks so much younger than she did on Earth. And wiser, somehow. Her hair is satin. Her skin is buttermilk. Her eyes are bright, like two dollops of honey upon plate glass. She hasn’t changed a bit.
In this moment your entire soul is filled with smiles. This sensation gushes into you like a flash flood. It nearly drowns you in memories. You feel like crying, laughing, singing, and cheering all at once.
“Mom!” you shout.
You’re in a joyous frenzy when you see her. Because there is so much you want to tell her. So much has happened since she went away. You are full of words. Full of stories. Full of excitement. You want to tell her everything.
But all you can manage to get out is one breathless sentence: “I love you, Mom.”
But she doesn’t answer. For words aren’t needed here. Instead, she simply touches your face. Her tiny hand feels warm against your cheek.
Your eyes fill with tablespoon tears. And this reunion is, without a question, the best feeling in all eternity.
Now, I want you to hold this imaginary scenario in your mind.
Because, you see, it is not imaginary.
58 comments
Sharon L. Lawson - September 26, 2020 8:43 am
Wow!!!! You’ve certainly hit a home run with this piece. Thank you for helping this woman in the uncertain world we are living in right now.
Jeanne Monteau - September 26, 2020 11:08 am
Thank you, Sean. I, too, miss my mom.
Gloria Jones - September 26, 2020 11:51 am
Wow!!!is right.
Lee Jennings - September 26, 2020 11:55 am
Thanks, Sean… coming up on the first anniversary of my Mom’s death on the 28th…. This one made an old man cry!
Beryl - September 26, 2020 12:18 pm
We are all Spiritual Beings having a human experience. This meat suit I’m wearing serves me well here on planet Earth, mostly. LOVE is ALL there ever is and all we ever need to be as happy, as Sean just described, here on PLANET EARTH. Remembering this helps me to navigate this world. We have all been given choice. I choose to perceive my world as LOVE.
Denise Walker - September 26, 2020 12:19 pm
beautiful!
Jane Elder - September 26, 2020 12:26 pm
Beautiful
eliz - September 26, 2020 12:31 pm
Oh Sean!
Jan - September 26, 2020 12:48 pm
Glorious! Beyond words to describe this beautiful picture made of words! Thank you, Sean.
Donna Hart - September 26, 2020 12:49 pm
This was wonderful! You described a heavenly reunion like I have never heard, and I can’t wait!❤
Stephanie Coc - September 26, 2020 12:58 pm
Beautiful description of the love of God. Thank you!
Opal Durham - September 26, 2020 1:16 pm
What a beautiful picture you just painted. Can’t wait to see it and experience it. Thank you Jesus. And thank you Sean.
Susan - September 26, 2020 1:28 pm
I have a favorite saying. Don’t know who actually wrote it but it makes me feel peaceful and hopeful. Just like letter you have written. “They are not gone. I just moved them. God”
Stephanie - September 26, 2020 1:39 pm
That was beautiful. Thank you
Becki McCallum - September 26, 2020 1:42 pm
This is one of your best Sean! Thank you.
Nicemonna - September 26, 2020 1:42 pm
Precious Sean, you’ve just done something- beautifully – that people have tried to do since the beginning of. Christianity. Thank you
Helen De Prima - September 26, 2020 2:07 pm
Thank you — I needed this.
Steve - September 26, 2020 2:08 pm
The best you have EVER done. I believe you were divine inspired when you wrote this and the words flowed from your soul to touch ours.
Ann Davis - September 26, 2020 2:38 pm
Thank you. So beautiful. It did ease my pain. It’s been 5 years since I lost my son and I’m still hurting.
Pat - September 26, 2020 2:42 pm
Just beautiful Sean! Much needed right now…on top of this year of Covid and all that entails, we have experienced a sudden tragic loss of a dear friend and now my husband is facing coronary bypass surgery. Thanks!
Paul Alge Moore - September 26, 2020 2:52 pm
Thanks Sean. That’s almost exactly like what I would tell my son while he was dying in a hospice facility at west Florida hospital last summer. He would smile through his morphine induced half sleep while my tears dropped on his chest. I’m so glad you brought that story to a bigger audience. That’s the only way I feel an after life could be. And I hope to fly with him through the wonderful unknown one day. Your description is better than any whacky preacher had ever said. Thanks again ☮️❤️
Linda Vaughan - September 26, 2020 3:12 pm
This was your best piece ever!
Erika Putnam - September 26, 2020 3:45 pm
That was beautiful and touching. Thank you!
Lynn Reese - September 26, 2020 3:59 pm
💟💜💟💜💟💜💟💜💟
Linda Moon - September 26, 2020 4:28 pm
I like to humor you, Sean. I get it. I am becoming somewhat of a Zen-pudding these days, so I like your “imaginary” imagery. I love my mom. She is light-years away from her years of suffering. Thank you for opening my soul to her today. OM.
Christina - September 26, 2020 4:29 pm
This makes my heart ache with warmth, hope and a deeper longing. Wow Sean
Karen - September 26, 2020 5:04 pm
Can’t wait for my dad to touch my face! <3
Kathy Dowdy - September 26, 2020 5:10 pm
Lovely!! So comforting!!❤️🙏🏻
Kate Lyon Osher - September 26, 2020 5:13 pm
Oh Sean, now I am crying in my coffee. Thank you for the gift you share with us daily.
Susan L Forte - September 26, 2020 5:34 pm
I love how you painted a picture of heaven with your beautiful words♥️
AlaRedClayGirl - September 26, 2020 6:36 pm
Beautiful! I have read many stories of near death encounters and you have come close to describing the common theme in all of them. Something I have found comfort in is “Death The King of Terrors” by Henry Scott-Holland. It contains these lines: “Death is nothing at all. I have only slipped away into the next room…I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner.”
Joellynn Heaton - September 26, 2020 6:51 pm
Beautiful imagery!
Cheryl Hatter - September 26, 2020 7:18 pm
WOW……… that made my eyes fill with tears as I see my mama. I miss her so much. It’s been 44 years since she left us, but it never stops hurting.
You are amazing Sean! Thank you❤️
MAM - September 26, 2020 7:20 pm
LOVEly and comforting! Thank you, Sean. You are an amazing writer and mental image creator!
aleathia nicholson - September 26, 2020 8:06 pm
My mother has been dead and gone for years …..BUT… I just did everything you said/wrote for me to do and I swear I feel better right now. I was so tired of being shut in with this dad-blasted virus and having 3 meals-a-day in my apartment instead of in our dining area with other residents and friends. Thanks for getting me through this day!!
Harriet - September 26, 2020 9:24 pm
Sean. I saw heaven. Thanks.
Mary - September 26, 2020 9:38 pm
Unbelievably wonderful!
elliemac3 - September 26, 2020 10:16 pm
Absolutely beautiful. Thank you!
Pat McGilberry - September 26, 2020 10:58 pm
Oh wow! That’s the best description of Heaven ever. A lot to look forward to.
Robert M Brenner - September 27, 2020 2:25 am
Sean, you hit this message out of the park. I mean the Braves would have signed you to an eternal contract and Bobby Cox would be so very happy! He’s been waiting to see you, that guy with him, you guessed it. Your dad, have a game of catch. ⚾️
Susan - September 27, 2020 3:10 am
Beautiful, emotional imagery. I will be saving this one.
Handy Avery - September 27, 2020 2:41 pm
I have just retired from 50 years of Christian ministry. How I wish your vision could be grasped by the families suffering in grief! Far too many times, the Bible’s description of heaven leaves Christians with images rather than feelings, your very clear picture of human response to feelings yet unimaginable are a true gift to me and to everyone who has experienced grief. Thank you.
Handy
Ann Everett - September 27, 2020 9:57 pm
I’ve printed this and intend for it to be read at my funeral. So lovely.
Barb - September 27, 2020 10:35 pm
Beautiful! Beautiful! Beautiful! I saw my dad’s crystal blue eyes shining at me in his last days and I know I will see those crystal blue eyes again some day! Now I have to go redo my make up! ♥️
kathleenivy - September 28, 2020 1:10 am
You forgot to mention that you have to wait for it. That suicide will not get a person there. It is absolutely worth waiting for. Thank you for your writing Sean. Bless you and this person who lost their Mom. No, you are right, it is not imaginary.
Dody Ogletree - September 28, 2020 1:35 am
My Mom died of breast cancer when I was seven years old. I am now fifty nine. Oh! How I am looking forward to the reunion you so eloquently described here!!! Thank you for sharing your words with all of us each day! You are truly a blessing to many!
Kathryn - September 28, 2020 4:40 pm
Thank you. I really needed this. Your words are very inspiring and helpful to many. I just take it one day at a time, but look forward to the day I will see my mom again. I cried reading your words but it is helpful, so I appreciate you and your wife. You both are a blessing to me and so many others. God Bless You!
Charlie Mathers - September 28, 2020 5:40 pm
Thank you, Sean!❤️
K. D. Kempf Jones - September 28, 2020 7:41 pm
Wow! And Wow Again! What a comforting column. I especially like the description of when the writer first sees his/her Mother. This all feels so real. Thank you, Sean. A great gift.
Beverly - September 29, 2020 5:28 pm
That is beautiful!! My mom left a year ago……but I know she is in that real place. thanks for reminding me.
Teri Pittman - October 1, 2020 7:47 pm
My husband of 37 years died in 2008. A few months before his death, he described a vision he had of heaven and earth, to me and our pastor. People in hell spent their time staring downwards, much like people stare at cell phones today. In heaven, it was a beautiful field and creek. His body was perfect, with a golden glow. He was there by himself, but said it felt like he had just stepped away from me for a minute. Both he and the pastor are gone, so I’m the only one that still remembers the story. I like to describe it as a place of pure joy.
Cindy Neill - October 27, 2020 4:51 pm
I am crying buckets dreaming of the day I see my Mama again. Thanks Sean…..I needed this as another birthday without her nears.
Mary Wynn Craig - October 27, 2020 5:10 pm
I miss both my parents. I was 7 when I lost Daddy, and only 47 when I lost my mom. Thanks for reminding me they’re both waiting, love in their hearts, huge grins on their faces. I’m bawling my eyes out here.
Kathy Gillil - October 27, 2020 7:25 pm
Absolutely beautiful! So looking forward to that day! Bless you Sean!💗
Peg - October 27, 2020 7:57 pm
Oh my gosh! I’m not sure I have the right word to express what I want to say. I’ve enjoyed everyone of your writings and thought with many, “boy oh boy he’s nailed this one….his words take my breath away with this one”….”how will he ever write something better than this”……………….and then you write Dear Sean to Broken-In-Kansas and you’ve touched my soul. I lost my dad in 2013 and my mom will be 96 in January…………..and these words are such a comfort (even though they bring tablespoon tears to my eyes) because I’ve always envisioned it just that way. You, my friend are a messenger from God! Thank you.
Sam Seetin - October 27, 2020 8:06 pm
Home run and hat trick… or like WOW spelled backwards!!! You touched her soul by visualizing with all senses of the Beatific End.
Uncle Sam
Debbie - October 27, 2020 9:50 pm
Perfect! Now, Broken in Kansas, go to YouTube and find, “Knowing What I Know About Heaven”, by Guy Pinrod! He sings of a place where m re and love never end. I pray it brings you some comfort during these difficult broken hearted days. My mama passed on Oct. 7th. This song reminds me of God’s promise of rest.
Judy - October 30, 2020 11:04 am
I recently lost my sister who had many health problems and would have been bed ridden had she lived. Now I know she is in Heaven, full of joy and not suffering anymore. We are selfish humans wanting to hold onto those we love and it’s hard to let go, but “let go” we must, just hold onto the memories, treasure the good times.