What Matters In The End.

Messages from Beyond: What Matters In The End

Hello again from The Other Side,

It’s me. Yes, still dead. Still watching. And no, I haven’t learned to play the harp yet, turns out, it’s a lot harder than it looks. I did, however, manage to organize a heavenly happy hour and let me tell you, the stories flying around up here? Scandalous.

Anyway, I wanted to drop you a line because something’s been on my mind. You know how, down there, you spend so much time worrying about the wrong things? I did it too. How the house looked when company came over. Who was saying what behind whose back. How many zeroes were on the bank balance, whether the neighbors liked my Christmas lights, if my hair was behaving at the parish picnic.

Up here, though? None of that made it through the pearly gates.

When you arrive, they don’t ask how clean your kitchen floor was or whether you remembered to send thank-you cards. They don’t care how many hours you worked or what kind of car you drove. No one’s handing out awards for perfect lawns or color-coordinated holiday decorations.

They ask different questions.
Were you kind?
Did you love people when it was inconvenient?
Did you forgive, even when you didn’t get an apology?
Did you ever dance in the kitchen when nobody was watching?
Did you say the words that needed to be said or did you let them rot in your throat until it was too late?

Because those are the things that matter in the end.

And I know, it sounds like something you’d read stitched on a pillow at a farmer’s market. But it’s true. I’ve seen a thousand people arrive here carrying regrets like heavy luggage and packed full of the words they never spoke. The hugs they didn’t give or the joy they put off for ‘another day’ that never came.

So here’s your reminder, from one soul to another:

Wear the nice shoes on a Tuesday. Say you’re sorry, even if your voice shakes. Love like you might not get a second chance because sometimes, you don’t.

And don’t waste one more precious minute worrying about what people like Fanny McFox or Bully Yates think. Trust me, up here they’re known for exactly who they are and it’s not the curated, sparkle-filtered version they’ve been selling.

Alright, darling – I’ve gotta run. There’s a karaoke night starting in the east wing and I promised your grandma I’d duet Islands in the Stream with her. And before you ask – yes, she still sings off-key. But I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Love you more than you knew,

Mother