Letters from Heaven

By Katherine McCarthy

How do you tell someone politely, to go the f**k to hell?

When Grace was diagnosed with an illness that gave her no more than three months to live, she found within her a voice she had silenced years before.

Letters From Heaven is a collection of letters written by Grace to some of her abusers. She doesn't hold back.

Abuse will hide in any corner, large enough to throw a shadow. Don't be afraid to embrace that dark and walk it into the midday sun for everyone to see.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Katherine McCarthy
• Release date: Nov 13, 2022
• ISBN: 9781922757876

Book preview

1

My Funeral and Wake

Funerals will always bring the best and worst out of people. Grief is different for each individual. I set about planning my funeral when I found out I only had a few months to live (at best). I didn’t want to leave these decisions to my children. It didn’t seem fair.

Looking back on the birth of each child, I’m brought to tears for the love I carry for them. Unconditional, even after death. That is why I chose my own funeral; one less burden for my children to carry. I didn’t want to be burned. Maybe it was a past life thing when I was burned at the stake (or something). I instead went for a more unconventional approach. I purchased a plain pine coffin with no trimmings. My idea was to provide a handful of sharpies at the beginning of the service so that people could write messages or draw pictures on my coffin. I loved art and quotes. I simply wanted to offer a distraction from mourning and add a little humour.

Mr M delighted in drawing a detailed image of a dick with the caption ‘For emergency use only … until we fuck again!’

How could you not laugh at that?

One message was … ‘Now you can paint in colours we can only imagine’.

Another … ‘I wish I was a better friend’.

I simply wanted my funeral to be an extension of me while I was alive. Quirky, a little morbid, topped off with a little dash of dark humour.

My coffin became a masterpiece. Every inch was detailed in small fragments of memories that appeared as images or messages. A true masterpiece indeed!

The service itself was relatively straightforward and quick. I never understood why a service should be long-winded. After formalities, the best part was the wake—where there was alcohol!

To begin my service, I had requested to play the song ‘Bring me to Life’ by Evanescence.

The lyrics are interesting.

It is said that when you are happy, you enjoy the music, but when you are sad, you understand the lyrics. It’s all perspective and circumstances—it’s personal and collective.

There was only one floral arrangement atop my coffin; it was a nice, simple bouquet of Australian natives. Although I enjoyed growing many natives, I firmly believed the flowers belonged in the garden for the wildlife.

It was customary to have candles at the front of the church for anyone who wished to light one in remembrance. The candles were white columns of grief. When lit, they struggled to illuminate much of the room surrounding them. They were no more than a token gift, offering little comfort to those that had set them alight.

I am by no means a religious person. I do, however, enjoy a beautiful display of stained-glass windows. A house of God. Who the fuck is God and why does he/she get all the pretty glass?

If we (the people) are made in ‘God’s image’ then damn, I want that glass too!

God is the light, the energy, and is all that we perceive and can touch, know, and feel.

We are far more than the energy itself; much more than a small cog in the vastness of the cosmos where everything is, was, and has the opportunity for greatness. We are soul. We are truth. We are creators and destroyers. We are God.

We act like we are gods. We are not gods, a god, the God.

Every single being on this planet has a belief. I do not understand why any such belief should impact how one person treats another.

A church is simply a meeting place for those who wish to feel closer to ‘God’ and can come and be with other like-minded people. Live and let live …

I just wanted the stained-glass windows!

A Pidgeon had misjudged his flight and ended up inside the small church. It had realised its mistake and panicked, headbutting the stain-glassed windows and losing feathers the entire length of the wall.

The priest had a dry sense of humour and announced that it was a sign from God. Whether it was a good omen or not, I do not know. Eventually, the bird was coaxed towards the entrance, and it flew away, never to return.

The service could continue.

You should have seen the look on people’s faces when all the candles blew out simultaneously at the exact moment when the priest asked for a minute’s silence to remember my life. It was comical!

For anyone that truly knows me, they knew this was a sign from me, letting them know I was there.

Not everyone was comforted by this.

To bring an end to the ceremony, I chose to play ‘I’m Not Dead’. Why has no-one got a sense of humour anymore? Life does not end with death. You can be dead while you still breathe. The body is just a vessel in which a soul can experience a physical existence. We all return to our pure energy form someday.

My coffin was taken to the cemetery, where my body was laid to rest. My final ride in the back of an old black Sinbin. Even I was amazed at the procession of cars. Quite a few people had made an appearance