Here is my intuition on it and you can take it or leave it;
I think nothing changes much when we die, but I do think for most of us, it will be a better place, as they say-- I think we meet again with those we loved, and will always love, I think we are young again (in an ageless sort of way) and I think we keep our same unique identity, but since going through the raveges of this world, we are a bit gentler, kinder, Grace is clearly more apparent within our Hearts and mind, we no longer regret, we do not carry burdens of this world accross the veil---We are free, but stil our selves, our blessedly individual selves---we find our loved ones waiting for us right there on the other side. Yes, I think it will be Heaven--the Sweetest Heavenly Peace and Light where even our long lost pets come running to greet us---Idealic? Yes, I think so---Filled with Love and Tender Reunion, nothing 'merged into oneness' just the Oneness of God's Presence in all its Sweet Bliss surrounding and permeating the everwhereness of This Joyous Meadow of Light---we will feel safe and secure with our most favorite loved ones that we thought we lost forever---Here, they are home, we are home once again--- they were awaiting our return---at last, together at last.
Here is something a very wise mystic wrote and I always loved it; I will share it here with you anyway:
Pages 164 to 167 "The Awareness of Self-Discovery" By William Samuel
The Horseman and Boy
He gave the screw another turn. The wood creaked slightly and puffed over the top of the screw. Everyone watched with intent interest except the little boy in the rear of room. He was looking out the window, down the road past the ramshckeledly house and to the hill beyond.
The man gave another turn and the splitting wood could be heard across the room. The boy looked away from the window to the faces of those who watched the man standing over the coffin. He looked into evey face and noted that not a one was aware of him; then he looked out the widow again to the hill beyond the ramshackledy house.
“By gosh, that oughta hold it!” said one of the onlookers.
”It out to, but I’m gonna put in another,” said the man who was putting the huge screws into the coffin. He took another of the mammoth pieces of threaded metal from the box at his feet and prepared to start it into the side of the coffin with a heavy hammer.
With the sound of the first blow the little boy turned from the widow again. He noticed the attention of the onlookers was beginning to waver. At any moment one of them would see him there in the rear of the room standing half in the sunlight from the window and half in the shows of old country store. “I wish he would,” he whispered to himself, and made another survey of the hill beyond the ramshackle house. Then his face lifted in an eager smile. Coming over the hill rode a tall man sitting stiff and straight in the saddle, leaning forward in that half arrogant, half swashbuckling way that nobody on earth but his father had. “It’s him! It ain't nobody but him!” The lad all but shouted aloud, and he would have if it hadn’t been for the people around the child’s coffin at the front to the store.
“Poor kid,” the man with the tool said. “You’d have thought he just didn’t care the way he jumped offa that ledge at the quarry."
”I don’t think he did care. He didn’t care for nothin’ since his pa was killed at Gettysburg. He didn’t have no ma and his brothers are off fightin’. The way he loved that pa of his, I just don’t think he cared. He just laughed when we told him he couldn’t make it over the ledge below. He said his pa could do it and if’n his pa could he reckoned he could, too.”
The boy in back of the room had moved to the window and leaned out as if to hurry the distant horseman. His eyes, alight, were filled with tears and they cleaned a path through his dirty, sweaty cheeks, rolled under his chin and made a dark spot on the scrubbed wood sill of the window. “It’s him,” he whispered to himself through excitement-clenched teeth. “It’s him. I’d know that ride any day of the week and twicet on Sunday!”
The work on the coffin had stopped and those closest gathered around it and lifted it gently from the work-bench. A solemn procession moved slowly toward the door.
The boy by the widow turned, frightened now that he would be seen. Quickly wiping his sleeve across his nose and cheek in an effort to wipe away the tearful evidence, he prepared to speak. Then he noticed that still no was looking at him; but sorta looking right through him, too, like they didn’t see him at all. None of them looked like they saw him. “They’re so filled with sadness, I reckon,” the boy thought. “They just don’t see me atall---like they never did hardly see me—but nobody pays no attention to a boy.”
The procession with the coffin left. Out by the tree, just before their voices would have been out of range, someone said, “He just jumped off’n that high ledge yellin’, “Come and git me, Pa! I’d druther be with you!’ I think he was plumb crazy with loneliness.”
The tall rider and white horse were approaching the old store. The boy turned from the sight of the solemn procession carrying the coffin and ran to greet the swashbuckling Confederate officer riding so high in the saddle.
”Eddie!” yelled the rider.
”Pa!” answered the little boy.
Barely reining his big white horse, the soldier leaned in the saddle and grabbed the boy on the run. Tears streaming from the eyes of both, their embrace was father and son reunion. The boy held on, squeezing with the unabashed love of a little boy so long separated from his father. The lathered horse snorted and pawed the ground.
“Oh, Pa. Pa!” he said. “I love you, Pa!”
“I love you too, Eddie. I’ve missed you so much.”
“Yes, we’re together, and this time we’ll stay together.”
He prodded the horse into a slow walk and turned up the street toward the church. The brief funeral had ended and the procession carrying the small coffin left the church and headed toward the cemetery at the side.
”Pa,” said the small boy on horseback, “they never did pay no attention to me at all ’till I jumped off’n that ledge.”
“I know, son,” said his father, “but we’re together now.”
This is from a most excellent book "The Awareness of Self-Discovery, by William Samuel---
Happy New Year All---