Lovely Linda sent me a link to a song on YouTube that she thought might bring me comfort.
It didn’t. It was a rather syrupy ballad of the type that makes my skin crawl. The lyrics were over sentimental, and to my mind, downright creepy. Check them out for yourselves if you can face it. The song is called Windows in Heaven and is sung by Michael English. I’d never heard of him, but if you like Daniel O’Donnell, as Mother and thousands of others quite unaccountably did and do, you’ll probably like this chap too.
I think Linda thought I’d like it as it has references to Mary, the BVM one presumes rather than my aunt, looking down at us from the aforementioned windows.
Instead it gave me the somewhat unsavoury image of the dead being involved in some mass surveillance scheme of the living on behalf of the Almighty, and, if things in heaven are in any way like here below, and according to the song there are windows so the inference is there, it could even have been outsourced to a private company, or the afterlife’s equivalent of GCHQ. A sort of celestial 1984.
Can you imagine the disappointment, having lived a good Christian life, to find you were expected to spend eternity, by definition a very long time, spying on the living? That would be very far from my idea of heaven, though I suppose there might be a section of those addicted to twiching net curtains in life who would regard it as ambrosial. If I ever get there, which is doubtful for any number of reasons, I am hoping it is a lot more paradisiacal than that. I imagine a large number of the dear departed checking the heavenly small print quite carefully if faced with the above scenario.
So no thank-you to windows in heaven, either the song, or the concept. I hope Aunt is now reunited with her siblings, her close friends, those she loved who died before her. I hope it’s a joyful reunion in a joyful place where she will be until the end of time with a light heart and surrounded by love.
The song I nominate for remembering those who I have loved is Days by the Kinks. It’s been recorded by a number of people, and I was listening to the Kirsty MacColl version on the coach home on Thursday night. She’s another I can’t think would welcome an afterlife spent watching those of us still alive as we continue to mess things up.