On Heaven, Gabe West ’20

Gabe West ’20

On Heaven

I hope that when I die, I die. “But wait!” they all decry, “How could you wish for such a thing? Now, surely, you must lie.”

“Yes, surely I will lie,” I sigh, “and there I hope to die.” I do not want a second act and here’s my reason why:

When I was raised a Catholic child, this wisdom they’d impart, that living might be nice at times, but dying was an art. For if you died correctly, then with sacred soul and heart, the earth replaced with heaven’s gates; you’d have a second start.

And for a second this new start was something to admire, or else be cast to everlasting suffering in fire. The rules I feared and so adhered could bring me to the goal, and maybe with due penance could the savior save my soul.

The problem with this calculus is that the final breath might not be representative of any of the rest. I pray that life is not a chore rewarded with an end, but something that while granted once you’d choose to do again.