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About heaven, to my son.

Dear My lovely son Malicca.

You have been growing so fast! Now you are five and your questions in every single day are getting sharper and sharper. For the past days, you have been asking about heaven.

"Do heaven exist, Bunda?"

Our religion taught us about heaven and hell as a compensation for good and bad people. But if you ask me, to be honest, ... I do not know how to answer because I have never been to heaven and I have never seen it.

Yes  I heard about it. A lot. But people who might have gone to heaven never came back to earth and tell us what the heaven looks and how it feels like. So, ... I never buy what people say about heaven.

But why bother to think of heaven in absurd way? Like what people tell you that in heaven you can have anything you want within a split second? Like what people tell you there is milky river and golden cups. Why don't you create your own heaven? Here, on earth.

To me, your mother, to have you hugged me and said "I love you, Bunda" ...  it is heaven.
To see you poked your friend just to tell them "Hey, this is my Bunda!" ... it is heaven.
To wake up in the morning and have you here beside me and smell your bad breath, ... it is heaven.
To have a cup of hot chocolate with some marshmallows, it is heaven.
To have the traffic treats me nice, it is heaven.

Heaven is not far. Whenever you feel happy, you are in heaven.

...

and by the time I am finished writing this, I got a conclusion that heaven does exist.


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Three hours late.

2 AM and I stepped in to the house. Hubby was waiting for me. This was not the first time, and not the latest hour I had ever experienced with over time.

"See you soon Bunda. Or at 8, or at 9, or at 10, or at 11 like you said you would be late." Said my son.

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