Do you think people in heaven can hear us?

I was wondering one day when Mark closed our pool, Can people hear us in heaven? I was upstairs and he was in the yard working on the pool. It was a quiet, breezy, cool fall day.

The mood changed when I heard, “!@$@$$%%.” Pause. “&**%&@%$” Slam. Stomp, stomp, stomp. &@**&$$

He came in the house, but I knew better than to ask what happened. At times like this, it’s best to just wait. The next thing I saw was him in the pool. I bet the pool was 60 degrees. A few hours later I asked what that was all about. He said he’d accidentally dropped a large rock that he’d placed on the rim into the pool. I said, “I bet the liner's got a hole in it.”

The next day he came in and said, “The pool’s got a hole in it.”

“How can you tell?”

“You can see the water pouring out from under the side.”

Oh.

We tried finding the hole, but could not. After I called the pool guy, I went to do some sewing and found myself talking to Uncle Bill, my dad’s brother. Uncle Bill’s been dead for quite a few years now, and it’s been even longer than that since I tossed the lawn dart in his pool and put a hole in his liner, but it was only just then that I’d really understood what he must have felt like when I did that.

“Hey, Uncle Bill? I’m sorry about the pool incident. I get it now.”