Abrahamic god: Well, for one thing, I'd take off my shoes. I guess he likes that. I'd probably be pretty overwhelmed; he's supposed to be quite the giant badass. If I were in possession of my senses, I'd probably grumble something about how a will without the ability to create its own meaning isn't a free will. Although I might, at least, ask if my wife is correct in her interpretation and that there's a chance for redemption; if I'm losing my free will one way or the other upon my death, I may as well do so in a way which results in eventually repenting and becoming good. It won't be me anymore, but what remains of me will still feel it, will still believe itself to be making choices. Note: I might also ask which Abrahamic religion if any was most apt. If it's Judaism, well, the covenant just doesn't apply to heathens like myself. So onto the trashheap I'd've gone anyway.
My own deities: Well, it'd probably be a pretty swell but brief homecoming. Meeting the gender of forces themselves, personified as male and female archetypes, would be neat. I would expect no harsh judgments. Frankly, that's because I don't believe in divine justice. That said, I figure it's better to be a good person. There's practical benefits if everybody around you does the same.
Buddha: What the hell are you doing here? Oh, okay, it's a metaphor. Damn. I didn't do well at avoiding desire, so here I go back around; I'll seek enlightenment next time, maybe. Realistically, though, I doubt I'd be in a position to say anything.
Brahman: Gosh. What would there be to say? If the god of Abraham's usually described as overwhelming, Brahman must be really something. My spirit being eternal, I suppose I could assume I had full command of my faculties; I'd probably be angry that I'd not get to remember the occasion.
Odin, and Hel: Relief. Life is long and difficult, or short and difficult for some, and there is no shame in resting in the land of the dead. I won't be looking forward to Ragnarok, but that should hopefully be some time away. And if Baldur has free will in Hel, perhaps so do I, for what it's worth. It will be nice, therefore, to remain myself but at rest.
That's one of the problems, really. Most presentations (not all, but most) of a great deity seem to portray the loss of identity in the face of it, a loss of choice or will in its presence. If you were truly in full command of yourself, if your will were free, could you sing hosaiah for eternity without getting bored? I think not.
There is a powerful extent of compulsion or a stripping away the complexity that allows us free will that is involved in most descriptions of meeting a deity. It might be neat, but like a drug trip, I wouldn't want it to go on forever. What remains of me, that compelled, simplistic shell stripped of what is me, might not mind; in which case I would not be in a position to argue. If it were eternal, this excision of self and of self-command, then it would be death, and the remainder would be kept around to amuse this deity as a plaything, either to burn, to float in an endless, empty limbo, or to sing its praises like a robotic songbird fed by God pressing the joy button. Sounds bothersome.