A Question for Heaven
Remembering My Wife, Jean Maier
My wife, Jean, and I were married on August 25, 1962. We spent more than 61 years together before she passed away in August 2024. During those years, I came to appreciate her remarkable love of books, her intellectual curiosity, and her desire to understand things that many people simply accept without questioning.
Jean had a master's degree in English and had taken additional coursework toward a doctorate. She was an extraordinary reader. When she died, I had to give away nearly 2,000 books from her personal collection. And that was only the printed books. She also owned several Kindles, filled with books she had purchased or downloaded over the years.
Among her interests was the question of life after death. I believe she had accumulated perhaps 50 books dealing with heaven, the afterlife, different religions, and what might happen to us when we die.
She read about these subjects extensively. Eventually, she reached a personal conviction that heaven existed and that she would go there when her life ended.
What impressed me most was the peace that conviction seemed to give her.
Jean suffered from lung cancer during the final period of her life. As her condition deteriorated, she seemed to have no fear of death. There were no tears, no expressions of dread, and no apparent hesitation about what was coming. When a Catholic priest came to see her, she welcomed him happily.
I have not been present at the deaths of many people, but I had never witnessed quite that degree of acceptance.
There was one incident during her hospitalization that I will never forget.
Jean had suffered a setback, and we were visiting her in the hospital. The hospital permitted only two visitors in her room at a time. My assistant, Audrey, was there with me.
A physician named Dr. Chin entered the room. He approached Jean and asked whether there was anything he could do for her.
Jean looked at him and said:
"Help me get to heaven so that I can ask my mother if she ever held me."
Those were her exact words.
Audrey was overcome with emotion. I was surprised by what Jean had said, not because of her belief in heaven, which I knew about, but because of the deeply personal question she wanted answered.
Dr. Chin simply stood there. As I remember it, he seemed to have no idea what to say.
To understand the significance of that moment, one needs to know that Jean's mother had died in childbirth.
Jean had lived her entire life without knowing whether her mother had ever held her in her arms. It was a question that no one on earth could answer for her.
Here was a highly educated woman who had spent decades reading and studying. She had explored religion, philosophy, and the possibility of an afterlife. Yet when a physician asked what he could do for her, she expressed the simplest and most personal wish imaginable.
She wanted to meet her mother and ask whether she had ever held her.
Jean died late one evening in August 2024.
I had been with her, and a caregiver was present. At approximately 11:29 that night, I stepped out briefly to use the bathroom. When I returned, around 11:33, Jean had passed away.
I was gone only a few minutes.
Sometimes I have wondered whether she somehow sensed that I had left the room and chose that moment to depart. Of course, I cannot know that. It is simply a thought that has stayed with me.
What I do know is that Jean seemed to face death with an extraordinary sense of peace. She had reached her own understanding of what awaited her, and she appeared completely comfortable with it.
Recently, I began looking through one of her Kindles and discovered dozens of books she had downloaded. Some were about history, others about literature, religion, and places we had visited together, including the Sistine Chapel. Seeing those titles reminded me again of how curious she remained throughout her life.
But of all the things Jean read, studied, and wondered about, I keep returning to that one moment in the hospital.
After more than eight decades of living, learning, raising a family, traveling, and experiencing the world, there was still one question she most wanted answered.
Did her mother ever hold her?
I cannot answer that question, and neither could Dr. Chin.
But if there is a heaven as Jean believed, I hope she found her mother there.
And I hope she finally received her answer.
Ernest L. Maier
