It feels like just yesterday, though many years have passed, that I first shared this deeply personal story. But with the arrival of another Easter Sunday, a day so profoundly special, the memory surfaces with a familiar poignancy.
“If I die, Mama, will I be alive again?” Luijoe asked. My six-year-old boy lay nestled amongst a small mountain of prayer books he’d arranged on his little tummy, idly flipping through the pages.
It was Holy Week, a quiet period just a month before that unimaginable day of May 27, 2000.
Turning towards him, I gently stroked his soft cheek. How does one even begin to explain the deep mystery of death to a child so young? “When we die, Lui,” I began, reciting the comforting words ingrained in me by our Catholic faith, “we will live forever, through eternal life in heaven.”
His reaction was immediate and filled with an innocent joy that still echoes in my heart. “When I die, I will be alive again!” he exclaimed, bouncing on the bed, his small arms flung wide in pure exuberance.
“Yes, baby, you will live forever, but not here on Earth.” I smiled, captivated by his childlike wonder. “I won’t see you anymore, but you will have eternal life with God.”
A deep frown creased his forehead, a seriousness beyond his years. “Mama, who goes to heaven?” His chubby fingers found their way to the strands of my hair, twirling them thoughtfully. He then brought the ends to his nose, inhaling their scent before spreading my hair across his cheeks. “Good boys go to heaven and usually they become angels.”
A sudden strong feeling entered his voice. “I don’t want to go to hell.”
I pulled him close, enveloping him in a reassuring hug. “You are a good boy, my love,” I whispered, promising him with a mother’s unwavering certainty that he would never know such a place.
His head dipped as he picked up his prayer book, his small fingers tracing the words. Then, he looked up again, his little hands framing my face. “Are the clouds heaven?”
“I’m not entirely sure if the clouds are heaven, sweetheart, but it’s somewhere up there, and hell is down there,” I replied, planting a kiss on his plump cheek.
He never seemed to tire of these questions, repeating them as if seeking constant reassurance that unseen angels watched over him and that heaven was a beautiful destination that awaited after life.
Oh, why didn’t I recognize the weight of those innocent inquiries? Why didn’t I see our conversations as a sign that something bad was going to happen? If only I had sensed what was coming, could I have somehow altered fate? Had Luijoe, in his innocent way, known he was soon to leave us and tried to prepare me?
There are moments when the longing to turn back time, to rewrite our story and prevent his passing, feels almost unbearable. Of course, such a power remains beyond our grasp. Yet, the beautiful and deeply moving words he spoke to me in those weeks before he left us are what continue to fuel the fragile flame of my faith.
Luijoe’s simple declaration never fails to rekindle a sense of hope within me, the unwavering belief that one day, our souls will reunite. It grants me the courage to find meaning in the tapestry of my life, even amidst the lingering sorrow.
My religious upbringing has always painted a picture of Jesus in Heaven, surrounded by God and angels, a celestial realm awaiting us after our earthly existence ends. But the fundamental questions persist: “How can anyone truly see or experience Heaven after death, if we are taught that death signifies the cessation of all being?” “Or does our spirit somehow endure?” Has anyone ever received a genuine testimonial of Heaven from a departed loved one?
Another common thread of inquiry revolves around the purpose of striving for something so intangible, invisible, and seemingly beyond our reach. “What is the use?” we wonder. “Or is it truly unseen? Does Eternal Life remain forever elusive?”
And yet, I choose to anchor myself in faith. For me, the most powerful evidence lies in the innocent words of my son, who, just weeks before his untimely departure, proclaimed, “When I die, I will be alive again.” So simple, so pure – that, to me, is the essence of faith.
Faith, in its quiet strength, remains one of the cardinal virtues that sustains me, that propels me forward in this temporary world.
“I am the resurrection and the life; whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.” (John 11:25-26)
“For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.” (John 3:16)
May this Easter Day serve as a tender reminder, not only of our Lord’s glorious resurrection but also of the enduring hope for the “resurrection” of our precious children in our hearts. We wish you an Easter celebration filled with the profound joy that Christ’s resurrection offers.
Happy Easter to you all.
