I need to read five people you meet in heaven again and again.

I need the wisdom and enlightenment and comfort that comes with reading it.

“Lost love is still love, Eddie. It takes a different form, that’s all. You can’t see their smile or bring them food or tousle their hair or move them around a dance floor. But when those senses weaken, another heightens. Memory. Memory becomes your partner. You nurture it. You hold it. You dance with it.

Life has to end,” she said. “Love doesn’t.”

Eddie thought about the years after he buried his wife. It was like looking over a fence. He was aware of another kind of life out there, even as he knew he would never be a part of it.

“I never wanted anyone else,” he said quietly.

“I know,” she said.

“I was still in love with you.”

“I know.” She nodded. “I felt it.”

“Here [in heaven]?” he asked.
“Even here,” she said, smiling. “That’s how strong lost love can be.”