A Few Words from Yonder

rocket launch


I’ve read many novels that contain a letter from a family member who has died. Sometimes the letter exposes a secret, sometimes it’s just a message of love. They usually begin with the words: ‘If you are reading this letter it means I’m no longer here…’ Have you ever thought about writing that final letter to your loved one’s? If so, what would you write? 

Perhaps you have a story to tell, a secret to unfold, or perhaps you would like to leave a solid imprint of yourself in a sweet memory. Imagine if you knew where you were when you wrote that final letter to your loved one’s. That’s the joy of our imaginations – let loose and see where you go. 



If mum could use twenty words instead of two, 

she would and did. 

If mum could send a WhatsApp message that came as ten, 

she would and did. 

If mum could send a text with punctuation, no text speak, and grammatically correct, she would and did. 

If mum could share your every thought word and deed on – 

Facebook, Email, WhatsApp, 

and every app still not designed, 

she would and did. 

If mum could sing your praises from the highest mountain, 

she would and did and will – but still climbing. 

If mum could love you as deep as the sea and as high as the sky, 

she would and did. 

She may be deaf but hears your every thought. 

She may not walk so fast but will find you if you fall. 

She may live across the oceans, 

further than you can see, 

but her arms are long enough to hug you – 

Your nightmare is real. ��



Do you ever wonder what’s ‘on the other side’? What or where you’ll go when ‘that time’ arrives? What should I pack? A swimsuit in case it’s too hot, or something loose and floaty? If I’m going to be sitting on a cloud all day a bit of glitz and glam wouldn’t go amiss, but it might get a bit cold. 

People say we’ll all be united with our loved ones who’ve passed on. That’s great, but if I’m in the same room as Aunty Maude for too long I’ll go nuts, or is everyone different when they’re in heaven? You know – all kind of high and kind and not in your face too much. Now I’m assuming that heaven is my final destination. Let’s fast forward and find out. 


Dear Children 

As I’m writing this letter, I’m wondering where to leave it. If I hide it too well you may never find it. Should I type it or handwrite it? If I handwrite it, it will fade and look like an authentic heirloom, an heirloom of words. If you’ve read this far, please continue. You know me. Eventually I’ll get to the point. 

You may wonder why I’m writing to you, but all my life I’ve left loving notes for you. Well, the ones besides – ‘Tidy your room’. If I haven’t said everything I’ve wanted to during my lifetime, now is my chance when I hopefully have your undivided attention. I can no longer see the look of boredom on your faces, or the look that says – ‘Here we go again’. Ha Ha. Even now there’s no escape from my wit. 

This letter doesn’t contain any secrets. It’s not a treasure map of where you can find Aunt Baby’s precious and valuable jewels, or Uncle Errol’s vast acres of land and numerous properties. Tough luck there, guy’s. There’s no inheritance. 

So what is left to say that I haven’t said to you all my life, a life that was enriched greatly by all of you. I’ve always tried to support you all as much as possible, through unconditional love and encouraging all your endeavours. I hope I was successful. Arrah, sod that. Enough of self-deprecation, or should I say self-defecating? I know I was successful. Sure the fancy coffin ye bought me says it all. 


Now here’s a bit of advice for ye all. I can’t promise it’s the last you’ll hear from me. I might take the odd flight from up here to check on you, so beware that sudden gust of wind (the weather one, not the physical one) – might be me. If your lights flicker on and off, definitely me. The glitch on your laptop is me. The interference on your TV is me. This is fun as I have so many ways to harass you. I can be the ultimate ghost-stalker. So cross your I’s and dot your T’s and don’t be forward in going backwards. Sure a bit of retro-negativity never did anyone any harm. 

My final words to you may seem trite, but I would like you to remember and cherish them. Never take Love for granted. Don’t neglect it. It needs to be nourished daily. No matter how busy you are with life’s chores, always make time for the people in your life that you love. Also, make time for yourself to recharge as much spiritually as physically. Love is the driving force that makes our life great. That gives it magnificence and total security. 

With all my Love 

Mum xxxxx 


‘Final call for Heaven. All aboard.’ 

‘Hey, wait for me. I’m not done yet. The priest is still singing my praises.’ ‘Join the queue. Next shuttle is in 10 years.’ 

‘Yikes. You’re pulling my leg. Hang on – I’m coming.’ 

Breathless (literally) and sweating like a pig rotating on a barbecue, I make it – just. ‘How long does it take to get there?’ 


‘That depends. Are you below stairs or up?’ 

‘Up, of course. Can’t you tell?’ 

In the blink of an eye we arrive and I’m shoved out onto a cloud. Is this it, I wonder? No welcoming committee? I try to make myself comfortable. Flap my wings to loosen them up. One won’t budge. Typical. If anyone was going to get a broken wing it would be me. 

‘Hey, one of these wings is broken. Can someone get me a new pair?’ 

‘Try the spare parts department.’ 

‘Where’s that?’ 


‘Where’s Yonder?’ 

No reply. People I know and half-know (can you half know someone?) – fly and float by wearing glossy-glitzy feathers and a serene smile. They all look so cool and

collected, and have that smarmy expression that says they know where they’re going and what they’re doing. How do they do that? 

‘Wrong shades, sister. So not cool. It’s Prada this season’. 

Maybe because I was the last one on the shuttle, I missed the best bits. God, I’m hungry. 

‘I heard that.’ 

That thunderous voice nearly flung me of my cloud. 

‘No need to shout. I’m not deaf. 

‘You are deaf. Get over yourself. You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said for centuries. It’s time you did. Remember, your thoughts are no longer secret. I’m all-knowing. Smarten yourself up. Your feathers are drooping. You’re a holy show. There’s always one and why am I not surprised? It had to be you.’ 

Booming voice sings – It Had To Be You. 

‘Cut it out, Frank, or I’ll send you back to Vegas’. 

‘No disrespect Sir, yours would be drooping too if you were sitting on a damp cloud all day. Bet it’s hovering over Ireland. Not quite what I imagined it would be.’ 

‘Well, you can visit the place below if you want a bit of heat and excitement.’ 

‘No! No! I’m fine. I’ll twiddle my thumbs for a while. Any books or magazines around? A bit of reading will distract me while I’m waiting.’ 

There is no reply. Not sure what I’m waiting for, but I sure as hell didn’t think I’d be sitting on a damp squidgy cloud all day. Now if both my wings were working, I could do a kind deed for someone back home. I’m really blotting my copybook and I’ve only been here a day. Another clap of thunder. 

‘You’ve been here a million years.’ 

‘You’re joking.’ 

‘I never joke. Believe me, if I knew where to send you I would have done it centuries ago. You’re as much a pain in the ass here as you were below. ’

A huge sigh causes my cloud to shift and I’m propelled out into space. If you don’t hear from me …. AAH!

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