Story time in heaven

Whoa! Did that freak you out? It is a little spooky when you are expecting one of my little, blond girls.
I don't know this man's name. No one alive knows it. He lived 5300 years ago. Or thereabouts. We aren't real good at guessing times yet. He was killed by an arrow and a blow to the head in the Italian alps.
He wore sheepskin to stay warm in those brutal mountains.
His last meal was unleavened bread and some kind of meat.

Just look at him for a minute. Imagine whether he was a shy child or a prankster.
Wonder if he fell in love. Ask yourself what he thought of when he fell asleep.

This is why I am a student of history. History is the love of other people.
That's it.
That's all of it.
Historians love people.
We want to know how they tick and how they felt and why they did what they did.

And that is what I am most looking forward to in heaven. I will be so busy! I will be running from person to person saying, "What was it like? What did you do? How did you die? You wore what? Why didn't you say it? What was the best part?"

Wherever someone is telling a story in heaven I will be there, rapt, amazed, curious, impatient to know more.
I will meet this man. He is my brother. I love his face.
I just keep looking at him... I cannot wait to hear his tale.
Although, it did end badly, didn't it?
Ouch.