Death Is Not the End of This by Connie Woodring

According to all my research, I will be going to heaven. I will not occupy the realm of Mother Theresa or other famous do-gooders. But I was a social worker, psychotherapist, Sunday School teacher, summer Bible school teacher and feminist activist. This should count for something and put me in the middle-to-upper realm with many of the same.

I never embezzled, sexually abused, murdered, blackmailed, looted or plagiarized. I blew my top once every ten years or so, shoplifted a pen and a dozen eggs and rejected lovers when a better one came along. I cheated in chemistry class one time because I just couldn’t get it.

I would have preferred going to a black hole when I die. To return my molecules to the soup of the cosmos would be my ideal heaven. I don’t want to rehash my good deeds eternally and hear unceasingly “I understand thoroughly what you are saying!”

I don’t want to have endless discussions on how we could have changed the world. If I would have known then what I know now, I would have been an astronomer.


Death Is Not the End of This is a

microfiction

by Connie Woodring.