BLOG: Heaven. The 5 big questions, starting with 'what do you DO there?'

by KATE HUNTER

When I was at school, we were taught that after we die, we go to heaven.

Heaven was presented as a cloudy (but not rainy) place where everyone wore white and got to look upon the face of God.

Back then, no correspondence was entered into, either in the classroom or at home so I never voiced the many aspects of heaven that troubled me:

1. If you live for all eternity when you get there, do you stay the age you were when you died? Not much fun if you kicked the bucket it at 97. Do you get to nominate an age, say 24, and stay that forever?

2. Is it awkward if you had been widowed and you catch up with your previous spouse in heaven – who do you spend the time with. Will spouse number one feel you moved on too quickly?

3. How do you find your loved ones? And do you have to hang out together all the time? Wouldn’t that be like one never-ending Christmas dinner i.e. hell?

4. How does heaven cater to all tastes? If your concept of paradise is water-skiing all day, how is that facilitated without upsetting the souls who want to read or watch movies. Is heaven like a giant cruise-ship, with something for everyone?

5. No offence God, but after we’ve seen your face (is the reveal like on The Voice?)surely heaven is a bit, um, boring? Eternity is a lot of time to fill up. It’s, like,  an eternity.

Of course, now I realise that even to the very religious among us, heaven is a not a physical place.

And plenty of people believe that after you die, there’s nothing. You simply cease to exist. I get that, but I still like to think that after I die, there might be something great waiting for me – like a reward. An elephant stamp for a life well lived. After that,  I’m okay with nothing.

My idea of heaven is this: I’d like to be shown to a room, rather like a luxurious massage room at a spa, and waiting for me would be a box filled with all the things I’d ever lost or had stolen.

– Three sets of car keys.

– Four mobile phones.

– Countless school jumpers.

– The early hours of the morning after my friend Trish’s 30th birthday party.

– The watch my parents gave me for my 18th.

– The 600 files that disappeared from iPhoto in 2009.

– Innumerable pairs of sunglasses.

– A yellow, waterproof Sony Walkman, last seen Heathrow Terminal 3 in 1990. Complete with George Michael cassingle.

Attached to these items would be a note, detailing where they had been all this time, and how they had got there. How great would that be? Once those little mysteries are solved, I’d be ready for a nice long sleep, or gazing upon God’s face, or even nothing.

What’s your idea of heaven?