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“She knew before me. She kept dropping little hints.” Paul’s eyes gazed heavenward, and he smiled at the images in his own mind.
“So it was her idea?”
“I just needed a little nudge.”
“How did you propose? Was it romantic?”
“It was supposed to be,” Paul said, laughing. “I took her on a picnic, right by the lake. And I had wine and candles. But there was too much wind, and the paper plates kept flying away and the food got dumped on the ground, and the candles wouldn’t stay lit. But I asked her anyway. She said yes.”
Ian was gazing to a spot on the wall just beside the television at a picture frame that displayed one of Paul’s favorite images of Sara from their wedding day. Beside the photo, in the same frame, was a poem in calligraphy, composed and hand-lettered by a church member. The topic was being reunited in heaven.
“Do you think Sara is waiting for you in Heaven?” Ian asked.
Paul followed Ian’s gaze to the photo. “I think she is,” he said.
“I wonder if I’ll go to Heaven.”
“Of course you will,” Paul said, kissing him on the forehead.
“So we’ll all be there together.”
“I guess so.”
“Do you think she’ll be jealous?”
“Hmm. I don’t think there’s jealousy in Heaven. Do you?”
“I don’t know. You’re the minister.”
“We talked about it, you know. Just before she died, when she was so sick. She said she wanted me to meet someone and fall in love again.”
“Have you… fallen in love again?”
“Head over heels.”
“I… I’m in love with you too.”
The next day, Paul visited Sara’s stone at the cemetery. He brushed off the snow, then rubbed his hands together for warmth.
“I’ve met someone,” he told her. “I know he’s probably not what you expected. He’s not what I expected. But I really think you’d like him. He’s had a hard life, and I have no idea how he managed to turn out the way he did. He could be bitter and angry, but he sees the best in people. He’s trusting. He has so much faith in me. Oh, but he’s messed up all my habits. It drives me crazy sometimes. He can’t make a bed. He leaves his underwear on the floor. But I think I needed to have my habits messed up. You know that. So if he messes up the house too, well….”
He stood, rubbing his red nose and wishing she could answer.
“He’s beautiful inside and out, but he doesn’t know it,” he said with a chuckle. “Well, actually, he knows about the outside. He definitely knows about that, but it’s like he’s always thought that was all he has. He doesn’t know how beautiful he is as a person. God blessed me that I can see it. I don’t know how it happened. But I love him. I don’t know what it means, or what’s going to happen. I thought I knew who I was…. I wish that I could talk to you about this. I think you’d understand.”
Then an idea came into his mind. It was so clear and sudden that he had to beli
eve it had come from outside—directly from Sara. Somehow she had found a way to speak to him.
“Let me go.”
That evening, Paul packed away most of Sara’s photos, leaving only the wedding picture with its poem about heaven on the wall. Then he took all of the ornaments down from the tree, hanging only the crystal angel on a branch near the top.
“What are you doing?” Ian asked. “I put a lot of work into that. I had it just right.”
“I thought we could go out and pick out a few ornaments together. Something that represents us, not me and Sara.”
Ian put a hand on the side of Paul’s face. Using only his eyes, he said, “I love you.”
