I don't remember dying, and maybe that's a good thing.

I remember Jackson holding my hand. I can hear his voice in my head, talking about Harriet. My sweet, beautiful little girl. She wouldn't get to grow up knowing her mother, but she would know that she was loved. That her mother had been willing to die for her. That she had given up anything and everything to make sure that she would have the chance that her big brother did not. Her mother had loved her more than anything else in the world and been willing to give all of it up for her. And she had. A life without future was better than the future repeating the past.

Samuel, my beautiful boy.

My life had been lucky in that death had strayed from my family for much of it. My paternal grandfather had died when I was two and I don't have any memory of it whatsoever, I just remember the fond sadness on granny's face whenever he was brought up. But my sisters, my parents, and even the rest of my grandparents were still alive. Four generations of Kepner, and it was my branch of the family tree that was struck by tragedy. Not once, but now twice.

My Father's house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.

I hadn't thought about the scripture of John in awhile, not that particular line. But I'd never heavily considered my own death. I thought that I had more time.

But Mark Sloan is someone that I haven't thought about in… months, at least. He had been Jackson's friend, his mentor, a father figure. I'd never gotten the chance to know him in the way that he had. I'd gone to his funeral and I had prayed for him, for his family, for Sofia. But I had never really known him, not in the ways that others had.

Yet he was the one standing there to greet me, holding a curly haired toddler in his arms, big green eyes that I had been blessed enough to fall in love with years before he had been conceived.

"Hi, baby."

The words are hoarse when they escape from my throat and I can barely look at the man who had selflessly taken it upon himself to make sure that my little boy was alright. Everything quickly became a blur of tears but I don't let myself shake and break down in the ways that I had time and time again when I thought about my little boy. One deep breath and I don't stop the tears from falling. Inside, I step toward the both of them, and I take my son into my arms. I cry.

"Hi, Sammy. My sweet baby boy," I smother the top of his curls with kisses, holding him tightly. On Earth, something like this would have absolutely crushed him, would have brought him more agony than what he had been through when I had carried him inside of me. But here, I can hold him and love him, I can kiss and cry over him without fear. All of it suddenly made sense. Not the life I had led, but the one that I still had to lead here. This was an unimaginable blessing, more than just God's perfect design. This was what I had lived and died for. This is what I would keep living for.

"Do you know who I am?" I whispered to him, pulling back so I could look at his face. Jackson's eyes stared back at me, full of awe. His nose was more like my own, big ears sticking out from his head. The things that my sisters had mocked me for throughout my childhood, and yet I can't help but find them perfectly beautiful incomprehensibly beautiful on my own son. "I'm your mommy, Samuel. I'm your mommy." I kissed him on the forehead. "And I love you so much."

It seemed as if the same concept of time didn't exist here. Samuel looked only a few months older than his sister, not two years. Mark himself looked like he had barely aged, no different now than he had been the last time I saw him alive.

Maybe it's odd. Maybe it's just how it's meant to be. But I'm grateful. I would get to have my son, to love and to hold him. And I would get to raise him, too. He was more than the tiny one pound baby that I'd birthed and sobbed over, that I had held with the utmost gentleness as to make his time on Earth as pleasant as I possibly could.

"Lexie and I told him all about the both of you," Mark said. I look away from my son for a moment, knowing that at least this time, I would have all of the time and more with him. "He knows you're his mom. Is it just you?" It takes a moment to process what exactly he's asking.

"Yeah, it's just me," I confirmed.

I had to hope it would be that way for a long time, too. If I was going to be with Samuel, then Jackson needed to be with Harriet. He needed to hold her and to love her, to make sure that she was okay, that she was cared for and supported. I trusted him. I trusted him to do that for our little girl, to give her absolutely everything that she needed and more. He had always been a good father, no matter what had happened between the two of us, no matter how we had gone for each other's throat from time to time. I knew that with me gone, he would only continue to be one. He would work harder to be one. He would make me proud. And hopefully, he would make sure that Harriet knew she still had her mom looking out for her from up above.

"We have a little girl now. Jackson is with her." I offer a little clarity. And I smile. It's not forced, even if there's still a twinge of sadness to be found.

"He'll be a good father," Mark offered up. I nodded in agreement.

"Sofia is beautiful, Mark," I tell him, shifting gears a little suddenly. "She's so beautiful. She looks just like Callie. She's sweet and smart, doing so well in school. Everyone absolutely adores her." I informed him with a soft smile.

Mark smiled back at me and stepped forward, clapping my shoulder affectionately. I know instantly that this is the side of him that Jackson saw, this is the man that helped shape the one that I had fallen helplessly and head over heels in love with. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

"No, thank you," I turned it back around on him quickly. "Thank you for looking out for him." A slight pause, brushing my lips over Samuel's curls once more. "We talked about Mark for a name, you know," I added. "It was one of the only names out of the Bible that Jackson was even willing to consider. And I know that it's got nothing to do with all of the scripture." It feels like necessary information, something he needed to know. That we had never forgotten about him. That Jackson had never forgotten about everything that he had done for him.

"You don't need to thank me," Mark said with a shake of his head.

I smile at him once more before all of my intentions shifted onto the son in my arms, holding him tight. I buried my nose in the curls on top of his head and breathe in his scent. He's magnificent in every possible way and I'm just as emotional as the day that I actually gave birth to him, but this time it's different. This time when the tears escape from my eyes, it's a release, tears of joy and love and exhaustion. Everything that I had been holding onto over the years, all of the grief, it was finally gone. I was finally with him again. I could feel and love freely, without the fear of being hurt, without worry of what was hiding around the corner for me. I had him. I had my baby boy.

"Mama?" Samuel questioned as he looked up at me. "Hello."

I nodded with enthusiasm, sniffling to hold back some of the tears so I could offer him a bright smile. I didn't know what kind of understandings he did or didn't have, but tears of joy were certainly beyond it. "Yeah, baby. I'm your mama. And I love you so, so much. I love you and you're my baby boy. And now I'm going to be here to take care of you, okay? Me and you."

I'd said those words to his father once, and they'd held a similar but different meaning. A promise to be there with each other no matter what happened, that our friendship would be there even when other things weren't. I'd link to think that in my last moments, we had been able to find that between each other again. That he would carry it with him for the rest of his life and that our daughter would know about it. I couldn't control how he raised Harriet or what he told her, but I had control here. And I would make sure that Samuel knew all about his father, how much we had loved each other, and how much we had loved him. Anything else would have been a disservice.

We sit down together and I keep him on my lap but turn him around so that he's facing me. It's hard not to stare and absorb. I can see hints of the little baby that I'd once held, and I can see hints of both me and his father in him. He's beautiful in every possible way. I couldn't have asked for anything more.

"I… love… you." The words that escape from him are punctuated, and it's hard not to break down from them alone. But it's joy, absolute euphoria floating through me at hearing the words come from my son. I'd never had a clear picture of Heaven, never known if I would really get to hear them from him. It's a welcome surprise and I bask and absorb everything that it had to offer.

"I love you too, baby," I replied affectionately, running my hand through his curls of hair. They're longer, thicker than Harriet's had been. Tighter, too. "Your mama loves you so much."

Samuel leaned forward and wrapped his arms around my neck, hugging me.

It's more than enough to send me over the edge but I stay quiet with the tears that stream freely down my face, wrapping my arms instantly around his tiny frame and returning the hug. A deep breath filled my lungs and I breathe him in. He's perfect. So, so perfect. Everything that I could have hoped for and more. And now I finally got to have him, to hold him and to love him in every way that I ever wanted to. In every way that had been stripped on me. I had cried and wondered why for months and years after losing him. Now, the pain was gone.

Stroking his back gently, I don't want to pull away. I want to spend the rest of eternity right here, my baby boy in my arms and hugging him, getting everything out of the moment that I had never had before. His death had changed how I was with Harriet, made me a different and better mother to her. I'd learned to appreciate every small, tiny moment because it wasn't guaranteed. Nothing was.

"I love you so much," I repeated myself. He pulled back before I did, and I beam at him. My hand comes up and I stroke a thumb across a chubby cheek. He was a healthy size and weight, not the barely alive little boy I'd known. "I want to tell you about your Daddy, Samuel. Is that okay?"

"Daddy?" He echoed the word and I nodded my head enthusiastically.

"Your daddy loved you so, so much, Samuel." I started, pressing yet another kiss on his forehead. "And you look just like him. But your daddy loved you more than anything else in the world, baby. You'll get to meet him too one day, I promise. But right now I'm just going to tell you about him."

And I do. I tell him almost everything that I can think about his father. I'd been best friends with Jackson for so long, it's easy. I don't focus much on his successful career, but instead who he is as a person. That he was sweet and thoughtful, that he never forgot the people who were there for him. That he worked hard and always did the best that he could, that he never let what other people thought deter him. That he was a sweet mama's boy at the end of the day and loved his family more than anything else. Maybe some of it is too much and way beyond his comprehension, but there's something relieving in spilling out everything about Jackson.

I make sure that Samuel knows how much his father loved him and wanted to do everything that he could for him. And along the way, I make sure that he knows exactly how much I had loved his father, too. How I love his brains and his heart, how protective he was of those that he cared about. I wanted him to know absolutely everything.

"He was the best man that I ever knew and I was really, really lucky to know him. And you'll get to know him too one day, I promise."

I hope the words are true. There are so many different belief systems out there and Jackson had chosen to believe in none of them, but I had to believe that at the end of the day, that we would all be reunited as a family. Me, Jackson, Samuel, and Harriet. That we would get the time together that we had deserved. That God would know that he was a good man even if he hadn't believed, that he had the same morals and values, that he always did the best that he could. I had to believe that.

"I love mama. Love daddy." Samuel blabbered on.

I don't know if he's just trying to make me smile – which he does with ease. He didn't have to say a word to get me grinning and beaming at him. "Mommy and daddy love you too, Samuel." I returned the words quickly. I wanted to make sure that he knew exactly who we were, how much we loved him. And it seemed like Mark and Lexie had done a good job with him so far. I would have to thank the both of them again for that when I got the chance.

"I love you," I repeat. Maybe I'm overwhelming him the words so many times but I'd only ever gotten to say them in prayer and to his tombstone. I didn't know if he'd actually heard him and I wanted to make sure that he got to hear them all the time now, that there was no doubt, no gap in comprehension. "I love you so, so much." I hugged him again.

"Thank you," Samuel answered me.

I couldn't help but let out a laugh at the response even if it's completely on par for his age and for the fact that he had already said that he loved the both of us. I pulled away from smothering him with another hug, leaning forward to kiss him once on the nose. He smiled and laughed. That laughter was more than enough to lift up my heart in ways that I had never thought was possible and fill me with nothing short of pure joy.

The weeks before my death, I had been filled with incomprehensible doubt. I hadn't understood why I had been through everything that I had been through, why it seemed like God was content staying on the sidelines with everything terrible that happened on Earth. I'd poured through Job and Ecclesiastes over and over again, trying to make sense out of all of it, trying to find meaning for the pain and suffering that I had been through. I hadn't been able to find those answers on Earth, no matter how I begged and pleaded.

There's got to be something more. Something more than the pain and suffering of this life.

I couldn't keep track of how many times the thought had run through my head, obsessed with the idea that there couldn't just be pain and suffering, yet at the same time confused as to why God would have allowed all of that to happen in the first place.

But now, it made sense. That was the kind of thing that wasn't meant to be answered on Earth. There wasn't meant to be understanding within a lifetime. The resolution, the calling, all of that came after death. All of it was finally coming to me now. I understood why God, Jesus, all of the angels, why they would prefer this place over the destruction and plagues that existed on Earth. Why the saints of God, the good men and women, this was meant to be their home. My head had been so limited in what I'd been able to believe before, but now I understood that this was it.

Now, I had my baby boy.

The Bible taught that the moment we die, we go directly into the presence of the Lord Jesus Christ. I could cry endless tears of joys at the thought of him holding my baby boy, kissing him and blessing him. He had his turn, and now I had mine.

I had been lost, but now I was saved.