I died and was being lifted by some unseen power to heaven. Well, maybe to heaven. I'm not sure. I don't think I was afraid. As I was being lifted, I could see the world beneath me. I could see city lights and things. I had my hands folded in front of me. My biggest concern was Matthew and how difficult my death would be for him. I was thinking that at least I am headed in the right direction. I'm headed up and not down. There were several times that I prayed while I was being pulled up. It seemed to take along time to be lifted all the way up. While I was being lifted, I prayed several times, that God would comfort Matthew. I just kept asking God to help Matthew through this. I was now in a small room. All four walls were glass. It was a square room. There was room for little more than two people to sit, face-to-face. I was sitting there in a chair. I don't really know how I got in there. Jesus came in and went back out to find another folding chair. Then he came back in and sat with me. He was holding my hands. I asked him to be with Matthew. He said that they had arranged for him to spend time with Grandpa Fr. They were going to an amusement park. We sat there and talked. He kept holding my hands. I just kept saying, repeatedly, how sorry I was that I had so much difficulty being tolerant and forgiving of some people. I told him how much I disliked that about myself and how much I wish I could have done better, how hard it was, how sorry I was. Then I realized that I was going to be sent back - that I wouldn't remember any of it. I kept wondering if I could will myself to remember any of it. I didn't think that would be the case. I wondered if Matthew would remember what happened afterwards.