If Heaven were a library, I would check out my mom's Grandpa first. I have never met him but always wanted to. I would bring him to my house and find him a well seasoned iron skillet so I could finally taste his homemade cornbread.
Next I would check out my Grandma. I would sit her in my kitchen and let my middle daughter, Caroline, climb in her lap for the first time. She could finally see how somehow I created a little girl that looks and acts just like her. I would make her a pie and serve it to her in the plates and silverware she left me. Then I would tell her all the things I never got to. I would tell her that I appreciated every single prayer she prayed for me and that they all were answered. That my husband is as good as she could have dreamed for me and more.
Finally, I would borrow my brother. But I would end up owing so many fines, I would never be able to repay them because I would never be able to return him. I would dance with him one more time. I would watch as many Mystery Science Theater movies as I could find and we would laugh until we cried. And I would tell him how much I missed him and how I wished he could have held each one of my babies.
But it isn't a library. Death is so bitterly final. But we rejoice, because we have hope in that mansion just over the hilltop. I hope I'm not going any time soon but I'm glad I have these little strings in my heart that pull me heavenward and remind me that this world is not my home.