Perhaps as grownups we can no longer believe in heaven as a place, but we can still conceive of a state of being or consciousness where all the things that torment us in this life are magically removed. In fact, what else can we do for our lost ones except to picture them, arrived at last at that bliss and peace, in the most beautiful place we can imagine? But then heaven isn't for them, it's for us, isn't it? It doesn't exist "up there" or away from here at all -- and it's not constructed of clouds or ether or crystal spheres, but rather of the concrete love we bear for our departed ones.
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