This is the mural my dad has on the end of his crypt aisle. And again, when you're artistically interpreting scenes of Jewish afterlife reunions, I'm not totally sure why you'd want to go in this direction:
SAUL: So Golda...
GOLDER: Yes Saul?
SAUL: I'm happy to see you and everything-- this sunset is spectacular-- but I'm a little surprised to see you in the Bermuda short set that you used to wear on every single cruise we ever took. I don't know how I got this idea, but I thought that maybe in the afterlife you'd be in a flowy dress. Or in a better body and bikini. But I'm not complaining, Golda! I'm not complaining!
GOLDA: You never said you didn't like--
SAUL: (quietly) Or minimally, a bra.
GOLDA: I heard that, Saul.
SAUL: It's just that we're here for eternity, my forever-bride, and do you realize how low they're going to be hanging in another century? I will accidentally step on a breast as we're walking the shoreline together, holding hands, and I will tremble with the belief that I've squashed a beached sea creature.
GOLDA: Well, maybe I'm surprised too. Did you ever think of that? Surprised to see that even after escaping the mortal coil, you're still so uptight you wear long pants and sleeves on the beach just like a fat girl.
SAUL: I don't think you want to be getting onto the subject of fat girls, Golda.
GOLDA: I don't think you want to lose any more of that receding chin or else your face is going to be seventy percent neck.
SAUL: At least then I'll have some surplus neck to lend you. Another inch and your lady Jewfro is going to be sitting atop your back.
GOLDA: (stewing) ...
SAUL: Am I holding your hand or a nipple?
In other news, it's come to this. You can now (well, at least for now):