Gone to Heaven

Gone To Heaven by Eric Hammitt

At the age of five, my niece asks, “Why won’t grandma wake up?”

I hear others say she’s gone to heaven, I only just stop myself from rolling my eyes.

Weeks later, my niece cries, “I want to see grandma again.”

Her tears are more than most can bear.

Again others tell her she’s gone to heaven.

I hold her and tell her, “Grandma will live within all of us, as long as we remember her.”

At the age of eight, my niece asks, “Why do I have to wear these tubes?”

I hear the others cry because they think she’s going to heaven.

I explain to her, “It’s because of the sickness in your body.”

Seeing her bear the radiation treatments turns my heart upside down.

I can’t let her go to heaven. It doesn’t exist.

My niece holds on to me and says, “You’ll always remember me right?”

At the age of nine, my niece asks, “Why are you going to church?”

I silently think; because you’re going to heaven.

I say, “It’s because you’re getting better.”

She’s not. I lie to her just as I lie to myself about heaven, because I can’t bear the truth.

No one else will tell her she’s going to heaven.

She walks me through the church doors, “Thank you for coming with me.”

At the age of twenty, I ask, “Why did this have to happen?”

I hear others say she’s gone to heaven.

The Void only answers me with roaring silence.

I bear the pole, and lower it into a grave.

I can’t remember how she looked before she left for heaven.

The pastor ends, “...and she is too soon gone, to Heaven.”