Rabbi Shimon ben Lakish — the one we call Resh Lakish — had once been a highway robber. He ran with two companions, robbing travelers on the roads outside Tiberias, and their names are lost to history because no one wrote them down.
One day Resh Lakish met the rabbi who would change his life. He repented. He spent the rest of his years fasting, praying, giving tzedakah, studying Torah. His teshuvah was total. When he died, his soul rose to Gan Eden.
The other two never stopped robbing. They grew old in their trade. They died as they had lived. Their souls descended to Gehinnom.
From their side of the barrier, the two old partners looked up and saw Resh Lakish walking in the gardens of Paradise. They were furious. They raised their voices to heaven. "Lord of the Universe," they called, "You are playing favorites. We three stole together. We laughed together. We ate together. And now he walks in gardens while we burn? How is this justice?"
The Holy One answered them without anger. "He repented."
The two of them, hearing this, tried immediately to repent themselves. They wept. They confessed. They begged for a fresh start.
The voice answered them a second time. "It is too late. Teshuvah belongs to the living. After death there is no repentance" (Gaster, Exempla No. 254; cf. Eruvin 19a).
The Ma'aseh Book preserves this story as a warning that runs against our usual sentimentality. Heaven is not cruel. Heaven is not partial. But teshuvah is the work of breathing lungs. You cannot repent on your deathbed alone, and you certainly cannot repent from your grave. The door is wide, for now.