Sickness and the Afterlife

I have gradually been catching the upper respiratory bug that made Joel miss three days of school. I am coughing, sneezing, fighting the drippy faucets of my eyes, wishing I could scratch my throat, and wondering if people can hear me because I can't hear myself.

But I have managed a modicum of tidying up around the place. nothing strenuous to cause a coughing jag, but enough to show that, perhaps, I don't just take up space around here.

To rest productively, I've been reading a book that a few people recommended from high on their lists: Same Kind of Different as Me. I may write a review in the future. It's the best thing I've read in its genre for a long time.

But after finishing one of the last chapters, with Joel snuggling beside me, I asked him," Where do you think I would want to be buried when I die?"
He hugged me tightly around the neck and said, "I don't want you to die!"
I assured him I was not planning to anytime soon, but I would; it's a fact of life. "So what place do you think I would want to be buried?"

He said, "Somewhere with lots of flowers. You loooooove flowers! But I don't think there's an afterlife."

Shocked, I corrected him. "Sure there is! It's called heaven--or hell, depending--"

"Oh, yeah! " he said with that "I remember now!" tone.

----
Reminded me that I need to be thinking out loud more about heaven with the little guy. It's been a few months since our last discussion of "the afterlife" (which is a term I am not sure he's heard us say unless he remembers my talking about it when I was studying ancient Egypt with my class). I just thought it was funny he's call it "the afterlife" instead of heaven.