My idea of Heaven is simply this:
I’m at home. The scared little kid that I always was.
Mom is still alive and she comes home after a hard day’s work. She calls my name and I hesitate to answer her call just to punish her in some small way for bringing me into this hellish world. But eventually I go to the door out of fear for what she might to do to me if I don’t.
I open the door and there Mom stands. Surrounded by everything she has ever brought me as presents.
That, my friend, is Heaven to me.
Ask me what Hell is to me, and I’ll tell you it’s a world in which Mom only comes home after a hard day’s work and brings me all those presents in dreams.