The Five People You Meet in Heaven.

I finally got to read Mitch Albom’s ‘The Five People You Meet in Heaven‘ during my holiday. Not a fan of fiction at all, but I’ve heard so much about Albom that I decided I had to give it a try. I loved ‘Tuesdays with Morrie’, ‘For One More Day’ and this is the third book and I’ll soon be getting my hands on the fourth.

I guess people love Albom’s ability to write beautifully about death, something close to our hearts.  “All endings are also beginnings. We just don’t know it at the time.”

According to the book, there are five people you meet in heaven. Each of them was in your life for a reason. You may not have known the reason at the time, and that is what heaven is for. For understanding your life on earth. This is the greatest gift God can give you: to understand what happened in your life. To have it explained. It is the peace you have been searching for.

This portion from ‘The Five People You Meet in Heaven’ is when I was really moved.

“Lost love is still love. It takes a different form, that’s all. You can’t see their smile or bring them food or tousle their hair or move them around a dance floor. But when those senses weaken another heightens. Memory. Memory becomes your partner. You nurture it. You hold it. You dance with it. Life has to end; love doesn’t.”

Eddie thought about the years after he buried his wife. It was like looking over a fence. He was aware of another kind of life out there, even as he knew he would never be part of it.

“I never wanted anyone else,” he said quietly.

“I know,” she said.

“I was still in love with you.”

“I know.” She nodded. “I felt it.”

“Here?” he asked

“Even here,” she said, smiling. “That’s how strong lost love can be.”

She stood and opened a door, and Eddie blinked as he entered behind her.

“Even here,” she said, smiling. “That’s how strong lost love can be.”

She stood and opened a door, and Eddie blinked as he entered behind her. It was a dimly lit room, with foldable chairs, and an accordion player sitting in the corner.

“I was saving this one,” she said.

She held out her arms. And for the first time in heaven, he initiated his contact, he came to her, ignoring the leg, ig­noring all the ugly associations he had made about dance and music and weddings, realizing now that they were really about loneliness.

“All that’s missing,” Marguerite whispered, taking his shoulder, “is the bingo cards.”

He grinned and put a hand behind her waist.

“Can I ask you something?” he said.


“How come you look the way you looked the day I mar­ried you?”

“I thought you’d like it that way.”

He thought for a moment. “Can you change it?”

“Change it?” She looked amused. “To what?”

“To the end.”

She lowered her arms. “I wasn’t so pretty at the end.”

Eddie shook his head, as if to say not true.

“Could you?”

She took a moment, then came again into his arms. The accordion man played the familiar notes. She hummed in his ear and they began to move together, slowly, in a remembered rhythm that a husband shares only with his wife.

You made me love you
I didn ‘t want to do it
I didn’t want to do it….
You made me love you
and all the time you knew it
and all the time you knew it….

When he moved his head back, she was 47 again, the web of lines beside her eyes, the thinner hair, the looser skin be­neath her chin. She smiled and he smiled, and she was, to him, as beautiful as ever, and he closed his eyes and said for the first time what he’d been feeling from the moment he saw her again: “I don’t want to go on. I want to stay here.” When he opened his eyes, his arms still held her shape, but she was gone, and so was everything else.

“Holding anger is a poison…It eats you from inside…We think that by hating someone we hurt them…But hatred is a curved blade…and the harm we do to others…we also do to ourselves.”

“Sometimes when you sacrifice something precious, you’re not really losing it. You’re just passing it on to someone else.”

“Each affects the other, and the other affects the next, and the world is full of stories, but the stories are all one.”

More quotes from Goodreads.

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