Memoirs from Heaven

Memoirs from Heaven

By Olivia Camillin

— Excerpt of a book

See everything, notice a little, and be thankful for the burden -

You can’t fit any food, water, or light in the box that Noah stuffed me in after he got sick of me. But that’s fine, maybe I didn’t need all that stuff, and maybe I was better without him. I adjusted really quickly to my life in the box. I didn’t need to bring any lunch, because there was no room. I didn’t need any books, because I couldn’t hear His teachings in the box anyway. Any pens I brought, to decorate the inside of my dark box, were confiscated by the other angels. Confiscated when I wasn’t looking. Without my knowledge until I returned the next day to the box and they weren’t there.

“Lord, do you hear me?” I was on my knees in a private cloud, “It’s me, your Ophelia.”

“Do not be afraid, child.” A gentle voice echoed through my mind. “What’s bothering you, darling?”

“I don’t think I fit in here. Maybe I’m not destined for heaven.”

“What on earth do you mean?” I learned very quickly that ‘what on earth’ was God’s version of ‘what the hell’. 

“The other angels here are mean to me. They don’t like me, and I think I keep accidentally offending them. Maybe they don’t want me here. And, maybe they’re right.”

“Oh, yeah.” 

“Yeah?”

“My child, you’re here. You are destined for this, that’s why the divine forces have led you here.”

“So then what do I do?”
“You need to prove that you’re worthy of us here in heaven. Make yourself so heavenly that no one would ever believe those other angels ever stuffed you in a box in the corner.”

“You saw that?”

“I see all, like Dr. T.J. Eckleburg.”

“Who?”

“No matter.”

“Then why didn’t you do anything?”

“It wasn’t on my agenda for the day. Wasn’t part of my plan. The days sure get away from me, my job is hard.”
“Being in that box hurt.”

“Like, I’m sure it did. That must’ve sucked. But you’re out now. Move on.”

So I tried to just do that.

Because that’s the thing about guys named Noah, they’re the most loveliest people in the world, but they see everyone else as animals. As far as he’s concerned, there’s at least two of absolutely everyone: everyone’s replaceable. That’s why it's so easy for him to socialise: he sees you as one in a million cherubic creatures wanting him all over you. It makes him fun, and it makes him easy to get along with, but it makes you lonely. You’re the only one invested, and you won’t know it until it’s time to move on, and he does it, without hesitating. Someone else, another animal, will come along, and he’ll find her so interesting that he just absolutely forgets about you. This is because, you see, you’ve already been shepherded onto the boat. He doesn’t have anything more for you. You’ve given just what you owe to each other. 

And so, you have no choice, but to follow your new friends on their exploration of what the world has to offer before this immortal plane. You’re only 13, you’re easily bored, and you don’t fit so well in heaven anyway. Throw your halo in the trash and get in the car, baby. 

And I was visited by my dad on the way out. As I was packing my things, a service angel appeared in my room. “Do not be afraid, my child,”
“Oh, hi, Colin.”

“Right.” He sighed, “Saint Christopher here to see you.”

And he appeared, larger than life. Larger than anything. He was not good looking. But, he had a kind of beauty to him that made him look Godly, like if God was taking a day off my dad could take his place. To me, he was always on the highest plane of existence. He knew everything, he saw everything, and was purely thankful for the burden. I wanted to thank him, thank him so much for everything, before it was all over. I knew I had to leave, but I didn’t think of just how sad it would make me. A tear swirled in my eye, and then spilled over, glowing like the most beautiful and expansive ocean down my cheek. He came toward me, knelt in front of me, bringing his face to level with mine, and used his thumb to soak up all my tears. 

And then he said to me, “Ophelia, I will always love you, more than anything else in the world. There’s no need to cry, for you know I will be with you every step of the way. Every time you see your reflection, you can know that you are traced with 1000 little pieces of me, all throughout your spirit, mind, and body. I am there. Every time you read the books we loved, you can see me in the words that I recited to you as a child, daily and nightly. In movies, in music, in other people’s words, you will always see me. You will always hear me. I will never leave you. Just because you don’t see me, it doesn’t mean I’m gone. I’m everywhere, and you will feel it as you trek on, onwards and upwards, my beautiful daughter. 

Whenever you pick someone up out of a problem they’re facing, whenever you help them through it, or find a way around it, I’ll be there, giving you the courage to forgive others and yourself. And I will give you the strength to move mountains, Ophelia. 

And when it rains, Ophelia, you will see me in the sky. It will be a beautiful, cleansing grey and when others will see an inconvenience, a ruin for their plans, you will see the seasons. You will have the divinity to remember that change is always going to come, and that all you can do is see everything, notice a little, and be thankful for the burden. You won’t see wet dog smell, or dangerous clouds, or adverse weather. You will see pillowy clouds, and blankets, and grey cats to cuddle with in your room. You will see lazy days watching movies on matching armchairs with lit candles lighting up the room. You will see orchestral concerts and warm golden lights under our chairs. Most of all, I hope you will see me. And if you look down, I hope you will see that you’re always on my shoulders, and I will carry you as far as I can, and the lessons you’ve learned will carry you even further. You have so much left to do, and so much of it without me. Enjoy a large and beautiful life, my daughter. Oh, and Ophelia: Illegitimi non carborundum.” and with that, he left me alone, in a puddle of warm, sweet tears.