Marilou’s Visit to Heaven: A True Story

From Marilou’s journal of true stories: I have touched on this story before but need to tell you…

Marilou was forty-eight when she took on a new venture.  She began to go to the gym and work out, join in the aerobics classes. Next thing she was teaching aerobics, high impact to the young women and low to the seniors.

The seniors were such fun, told her things that made the instructor wonder. In time, Marilou discovered they had taught her valuable lessons.


One day she came home from class and Aunt Mary had the news on TV. The burning building on the screen didn’t catch her attention … at first.

She placed the radio on the dining room table and kicked off her sneakers, all while staring at the TV. Marilou’s pulse went up a notch as fire spiked from the roof and firefighters carried two body bags from the burning building.

“That looks like Marcus’ apartment…” her voice trailed off. She stepped in front of the screen; it was her brother’s apartment. Marilou turned in circles; then raced out the door and down the street. When she was able to calm down, Marcus’ sister returned to the house and called her husband at work.

She couldn’t tell David on the phone; the men were as close as brothers.

It was one and half hours to the town where Marcus lived. When they arrived at the complex the couple was taken to his burned-out apartment. It was gutted, totally destroyed by the fire. They hadn’t expected this, were shocked by the devastation.

Marcus and his best friend did not survive the disaster. The Fire Marshall said it was the bed in the front alcove that fueled the fire. The bed they had given to her brother. When Marilou slipped into her own bed that night, she could not help but dwell on another brother.

Wallace was twenty-six when his motorcycle crashed into a driver who had run a stop sign. The possibility that Wallace would survive was slim, his body was so broken and battered. The family gave doctors permission to do exploratory surgery.

One week later Wallace succumbed to pneumonia.

Sleep would not come for Marilou that night … but her brothers did.

Marcus and Wallace were in the distance, hunched together on the trunk of a huge Oak tree. It lay across a pond of brilliant blue water with reflections like sparkling diamonds.

When she drew close enough to hear, the sister was overcome with an emotion that she cannot explain to this day. Marcus and Wallace were having a conversation; she could “hear” them. Only their lips didn’t move and she didn’t hear with her ears.

In this divine setting everything happened with the mind. Thoughts and expressions passed between the brothers in a flash, with a speed she could not express.

Yet this was not the greatest miracle. It was the love, the joy, the peace. She was overwhelmed with a happiness that is impossible to relate. Everything here is filled with this love. When the brothers came together the bliss exploded.

Marilou became drenched with elation, the same unconditional love that consumed her brothers. She knew in that instant she never wanted to leave this place.

Something else tugged at Marilou; she became aware of this enchanting music. She had never heard anything like it; the sound took hold of her being and lifted her to a height where she had never been.


The visitor was thunderstruck by her surroundings. The colors filled her up, blues and greens and hues so vibrant they seeped into her body with every breath. “Every single thing in this place is alive,” Marilou declared.

“Each leaf lives to touch a branch, which lives to touch the tree, which lives to touch the grass, which lives to touch my body, which lives to hold my heart, which lives to spirit my soul. I am one with the universe,” Marilou glowed.

She closed her eyes to relish in a euphoria she had never known. When Marilou looked up to find her brothers, they were gone. She didn’t know where they went, but one thing she did know…

Marilou had been to Heaven.


May Your Glass Always Be Half Full



About Maxi

Hi … I'm Maxi, a retiree with an addiction. I have quit: raising kids, cleaning house, cooking, doing laundry—there is no end the list—everything is done on "have to." The addiction? Writing to my last breath. blessings ~ maxi
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