It all started the night I died.

I was in bed asleep, or so I thought.

Then the most wonderful voice in the world whispered, “Dad, get up. It's time to go." That was the voice of my daughter Sheila. She had died tragically of cancer a couple of months before, at the age of thirty-six. I often saw her in my dreams, wonderful, wonderful dreams, vivid and real.

“Sheila!" I whispered and smiled.

“I'm here, too." A man's voice came from behind her. It was a familiar voice. So I opened my eyes. I swore I'd seen him somewhere before.

“Who are you?" I asked, still somewhat groggy.

Sheila giggled. They were both very excited.

“My name is George," he replied. I needed more than merely his first name to connect to that one useful memory just out of my reach.

“Okay, what's going on here?" I hesitantly asked Sheila, who grinned from ear to ear, positively giddy.

“It's time for us to be together, Dad."

“I know. I love these dreams. All the pain of your death melts away. It's like you're really here with me," I told her, then I sighed. “But it's hard when I wake up and realize it was just a dream."

“There's a reason for that, Dad. But this is different. You had a heart attack and died peacefully in your sleep. Now we're here to escort you into Heaven."

I paused for a moment and looked her in the eyes. Her eyes held steady. “Okay, I want to wake up now!"

“I'm sorry, Martin, but that's impossible."

Sheila and George still stood over me, lovingly smiling.

“Give me your hand, Dad," Sheila sweetly said, extending her arm.

I flailed for a minute to try to wake myself up. I should have been able to feel my heart racing. I tossed myself hard, then harder, but my body stayed still. This was too weird. Eventually, I gave Sheila my hand. She helped me sit up and then stand up.

“Look." George pointed back at the bed. I looked back and I saw myself still lying there, with a strained look on my face.

“I'd really like to wake up now."

“Stubborn as ever," George chuckled and shook his head.

“I'm sorry, who are you again?"

“I'm George. I was your great-grandfather. I died a few years before you were born. But for all your seventy-two years, I've been your guardian angel and you've been my charge, the one I was assigned to protect and guide."

“I've seen you before," I pointed at him trying hard to place any memory that would make sense.

“Yes, in old photographs."

“And maybe a couple of other places over the years." Sheila nudged him and he smiled slyly.

Shaking that off, I got back to the issue at hand determined to reason my way back to familiar ground. “If I'm dead, who is going to take care of my precious Glory? You know how much she needs me. If I'm dead, who's going to lead the elder's meeting at church in the morning? Then there's Sarah. I promised her a road trip this weekend. I have too much to do. I have to go back." I turned away from them to try and figure out how to get back inside my own skin.

George quickly put his hand on my shoulder, turned me back toward him and looked me straight in the eyes. “Your work will continue. I merely have to teach you how to do it as an angel. That's all."

I looked straight back into his eyes, with a plea to go back to the world, but all I saw was genuine concern and love. I stared into his eyes and peace fell over me like a waterfall.

“And Mama will be taken care of, by more people and angels than you could ever imagine," Sheila said, putting her hand on my other shoulder.

A beautiful, bright, white light appeared. It came from behind George and encompassed us completely. There were no more points to argue. Heaven was calling me and it was my time to go. George turned and led us toward the light. I held Sheila's hand tightly and followed my guides into Heaven.

On the walk through the bright light, scenes of my life surrounded me; important events and turning points. I saw scenes from my childhood. I saw my mother's anguished face right after my father passed away. I saw myself with my brothers, playing hard when we were young and fighting even harder as we grew older. I saw images, both happy and sad. I saw the people from the town where I grew up. I saw the time I was caught stealing a piece of candy by old Mr. Wannabaker. Then I saw the smile on his face, as he cheered me after winning the pumpkin-carving contest during the Harvest picnic that very same year. There was the widow Dunberry, our next door neighbor, who I'd always helped with chores around her house. She always patted me on the head, until I outgrew her. There were images from the civil rights marches and riots of the sixties. We broke across many a lunch counter barrier, until we were either served or arrested.

I saw my ordination as a minister. There were images of the people of my congregations and the countless marriages, baptisms and funerals I'd presided over. Among the many faces in my congregation, one stood out, as it always had in my life, that of my lovely bride, Glory. Glory, I called her, because the day she told me she loved me, I knew I'd found the Promised Land! I saw my marriage and the birth of each of my four children, Jeremiah, Sheila, Peter and Sarah. I saw their smiling faces as they grew up. I relived the relationship struggles as they grew into adults. I felt again the death of my mother and the illness and death of my daughter. Finally, I saw the last time I kissed my Glory goodnight on my last night on earth and now here I was.

As we emerged on the other side of the light passage, figures walked toward us. A familiar voice called out my name. She smiled joyously. “Martin, my son. Come to me." We embraced. The amount of pure love and joy I felt overwhelmed me.

“Mother," was all I could say.

“Son," a strong voice said. I looked up and my father stood right beside me. He'd died when I was twelve. “I'm proud of you, son and the man you have become." He put his hand on my shoulder. His strength and love flowed all through me.

Then George said, “We have a lot to do. You will be back with these lovely angels very soon. But we need to keep going."

“But I just got here. I need more time." I looked at Mother and Dad's faces and they encouraged me to continue on with George. So I went on.

We entered a garden filled with the most spectacular flowers and most beautiful scents I could've imagined. There was perfection in every petal, leaf, and stem. This place was the definition of serenity.

We sat on an intricately carved, curved marble bench. George began to explain my situation. “Martin, you lived a good life, a productive life for God, and you will be rewarded greatly in Heaven. There are choices regarding your future that you need to make soon. I will explain all the options, of course, and using your wisdom and my guidance, we will choose your path for you."

“My path?"

“It will all become clear to you soon, but now we have to go back. It's time to think about your earthly family. They don't know about your death yet. Only a few seconds have actually passed on Earth. We need to help them with this transition. You'll be there and be affecting your loved ones in very profound ways."

“I get to go back and be with them?" I asked eagerly. “I don't understand. I really get to go back and see them all again?"

“You're an angel now, Martin," he told me in a soft, strong voice, “and you're free from the constraints of the physical world. You have new capabilities, although you need to be trained in how to use them. After you choose your path, you'll develop new powers. It all will become clear, very soon. But for now, let's go help the family through this."

I nodded and the instant our eyes met, they locked. When I looked around again, we were back in my bedroom in the world.