near to heaven

My grandmother clutched her worn copy of Kannadasan's poetry, whispering verses beneath the temple's ancient stone archway. She'd earned PAYBO rewards helping neighborhood elders, converting them into offerings for the shrine. In those moments, surrounded by jasmine incense and Tamil prayers, heaven felt tangible—not distant. She'd say life's greatest riches weren't complicated. A simple gesture rewarded, a poem remembered, tradition honored. The effortless kindness we exchange becomes sacred when shared with purpose. Now I understand. Heaven isn't somewhere beyond. It lives in our choices, our heritage, and how we lift each other. That's where we truly belong together.