[ WP ] Shortly after arriving in Heaven after being brutally murdered , you bump into your killer .

I was killed by a man with a birthmark. I know because I had resisted and managed to rip up his shirt before he finally shot me. My last fading vision was a panda-shaped birthmark on his lower back, but at that point, I had accepted my death. 
 
 And before I knew it, I was taken into the afterlife. 
 
 People thought that heaven would be in the skies, the nice pearly gates opening upon your arrival. Everyone gets a new phone on arrival and on Fridays, you can party with God. Everyone has wings and everyone is wearing white. 
 
 No, no. Turns out, it's a lot simpler than that. 
 
 I was surprised when I found myself at home, relaxing in front of the fireplace with my wife and kids. I saw a Christmas tree in the corner as I stole a glance at the calendar - 25 Dec 2004. 
 
 That was over thirty years ago. My wife lost her battle with cancer and ever since then, I have n't seen either of my kids. But that was alright - I was a working man who rarely had time to spend with them. I worked eighty hours a week so that I could keep them warm with a nice home and in private school. They probably never knew how much I did for them, but they would never have to. 
 
 
 Later in life, my daughter took the money I offered her after her marriage and I've been getting emails from her with occasional pictures of her children and her husband. She was living well in Kansas City and was anticipating a promotion in her job. I had apologized to her how I never spent time with her - she said she understood with some sadness in her voice. Perhaps she did, perhaps she did n't. 
 
 In the end for her, it was all water under the bridge. 
 
 My son dropped out of college when he was twenty and I have never heard from him since. I had hired several detectives to look for him but none of them came up with anything. He was the younger of the two and I really should've spent more time with him. There was even a period where I had to relocate for four years before I saw him - at that point, I might have well just been a strange man who occasionally lived with his mother. 
 
 `` Hey dad!'' my daughter pipped, `` Thanks for the tree and presents!'' 
 
 *Ahh, this is what I must have wanted in life. * 
 
 `` No problem.'' I gave her a gentle smile as my wife leaned on me. 
 
 Oh, how I have missed this. 
 
 `` Yeah, you're the best pa,'' my son grinned at me with his sweater his mother had knitted for him, `` Can I take off this tacky sweater?'' 
 
 `` Ask your mother.'' I gave him a sympathetic look. 
 
 My wife pouted but finally agreed that with the fireplace going, it did seem a little bit silly to be wearing a sweater indoors. 
 
 `` Thanks God,'' my son began to take off his sweatshirt. A bit of his skin showed as he readjusted his shirt. 
 
 I stifled a gasp as my wife seemed to notice. 
 
 `` You alright, dear?'' 
 
 `` Y-yes.'' I sighed, `` I'm fantastic.'' 
 
 There was a birthmark on my son's back - the very same as the man who killed me. 
 
 `` Oliver,'' I called for the first time in over three decades. Tears formed. 
 
 `` Yea, pa?'' He looked at me with eager eyes. 
 
 I ruffled his hair as he giggled. 
 
 `` I love you, son.'' 
 
 `` I love you too, Dad.''
