"Daddy, put me on your shoulders and let me touch
Grandma's hand!" the little girl said.
Daddy bent down, turned her around, and lifted her
high above his head until she was safely
positioned on his shoulders.
"I can see tomorrow up here, Daddy," she said.
"You can?" he asked. "What does it look like?"
he questioned her.
"Just like today, but more pretty!" she giggled.
"Now hold on, Jenny. I'm going up on top of this hill.
When I tell you to, stretch your arms way up
and you can touch her hand."
He carefully walked up on top of the small hill
just behind the bench I was sitting on.
The softball fans sit there each evening during the spring
and summer watching the local players compete.
But today this hill served a higher purpose.
For this is a spot where memories are made.
This is a moment between parent and child
that gets filed away in memories for tomorrows yet to come.
Perhaps when this young girl will hold her
babe high upon her shoulders and
together they will reach for Grandpa's hand,
just like when she was a child.
He came down to where I was seated.
His daughter played nearby. Her Daddy told me
afterwards that Jenny was very close to his Mom.
She died a few months ago.
"Jenny said she wanted to hold hands with Grandma
like she always did.
I told her Grandma was in heaven, out of reach," he said.
"Jenny told me that heaven is in tomorrow.
If she climbed way up high she could see it
and touch Grandma's hand."
"Why did she say that Heaven was in tomorrow?" I asked.
"Well, the last time she saw Grandma,
she told Jenny that one day soon
she would go to heaven.
Of course Jenny wanted to know when.
Mom said, 'Maybe tomorrow, Jenny.
She died two days later."
"So heaven is in tomorrow, then," I added.
"So does she feel Grandma's hand?"
"Yes, very much so.
In fact . . ." he paused when his daughter
came running up to him.
"I'll be right there, Jenny. Jenny is such a
You look at her and think "buttons and bows"
like a little girl in a story book,"
her Daddy continued.
"One day when we did this, she stretched out her
arms and said, "Daddy, I can feel her hand!"
Of course I played along and
asked if it were soft like I remember."
He stopped for a moment, shook his head
and looked down. I guess the memory
of Mom was still very much alive in him.
"She then said, 'Yes, Daddy.
She has a ring with four colours on it."
I couldn't believe what she said.
I asked her to tell me again. She described
it as best she could for a young child."
"Did she remember a ring that
Grandma always wore?" I asked.
"No. That's what amazed me.
You see that ring was her Mother's ring that we
Each coloured stone represented
one of her children.
She couldn't wear it for year's because of her arthritis."
Once again he stopped to gain some composure.
"We placed it on her finger when she died.
We had it cut to fit her."
"Could Jenny have seen it then?" I asked.
"No. We decided not to permit Jenny
at the funeral viewing. She was much too
young to understand."
"So, Jenny never saw the ring?" I asked.
"No, not until that day . . .
when she saw Heaven in tomorrow."
Jenny came rushing over and
Dad and I said our good byes.
I thought a lot about this today.
I asked myself a hundred times.
Now I'm asking you.
Based on who you are,
knowing more about you than anyone else,
having whatever faith you may have
in yourself, your God . . .
Can you see "Heaven in tomorrow?"
If you believe, just reach up right now and touch it.