An open letter to God,
Firstly, I didn’t expect quite so much singing. Sorry to be blunt, but I believe honesty is what got me here in the first place. Everlasting peace is your USP, and quite frankly, I have experienced very little of that. I could not hold a High C in life, and in death I fear I am only adding to my own torment, and that of others.
Secondly, not possessing corporeal form can take some getting used to. Just an idea, but it might be nice to offer a formalised induction package upon arrival. Being an unfathomable amalgamation of light and matter makes interacting with loved ones particularly testing. As much as I was overjoyed to eventually be reunited with my beloved cockerpoo, Max, my husband was somewhat dismayed when I greeted him first and told him he had been buried in the garden with his favourite chew toy.
I’d also like to bring to your attention some concerns regarding general administration. While I understand resources are stretched, this has caused some ‘hiccups’, as quoted by Gabriel in our meeting on date unspecified, as ‘no one keeps track of that up here, Janet’. I do not believe that failure to participate in trust fall exercises at the company retreat should be an instantaneous black mark against one’s mortal record. Until you have some wings on the ground, or at least a structured external audit plan, I’m not confident you truly understand the extent of human suffering that is caused by spending a week in close proximity with one’s mortal colleagues.
I am not trying to undermine the good work you are doing here. Heaven forbid. But how can you be expected to improve without some objective feedback? I will admit, there have been some positives to the afterlife experience. Not having one’s consciousness completely obliterated from the known universe is a huge plus, and the All-You-Can-Eat Supper Club Hosted by Nelson Mandela has been a personal highlight. If you intend on creating a steering group in the future, I will gladly put my name forward to provide a much-needed human perspective.
Lastly, I must request that this correspondence remains strictly anonymous. Despite your omnipresent status, I feel my anonymity should be respected, and I do not wish to have to involve Michael from Compliance. Again.
Yours faithfully,
Anon
About the author
Zoë Davis is a writer from Sheffield, England. She lives with FND and fights what her body says she can’t do by playing wheelchair rugby league. She writes poetry and prose, and especially enjoys exploring the interaction between the fantastical and the mundane, with a deeply personal edge to her work. You can find her words in publications such as:
Bending Genres, Ink Sweat & Tears, jmww, and Red Ogre Review. Follow her on X / Bluesky @MeanerHarker.
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