Tuesday, December 17, 2013

...but what do I know?

When my father passed away, 11 years ago, I was coming into myself spiritually. After he passed, I experienced, what I believe to be, a visit from my dad in spirit.

The hardest part about my mother's passing is that I've been experiencing a lot of doubts about God and the afterlife. I think this stems from the fact that I have never been one to embrace something just for the sake of making it easier on myself.

I remember as I sat in mom's hospital room watching her sleep, I wondered what she must be thinking about her impending death.  Did she worry about her faith?  Did she question the afterlife? God?  I would have if I were in her situation.  Shoot, I was already as I watched her wither closer to death each day.

I was raised strict Baptist, but the black sheep in me questioned everything.  What if God and religion was concocted for those too weak to face death without it?  What if when we die, that was just all there were?

I want to believe in life-after-death and God, but I don't want to believe in it simply because it makes me feel better.

For example when daddy passed, apparently he was having a heart attack. It was in the midst of this attack that he slipped from the seat of the tractor and ended up underneath.  The detective told our family that dad had hit his head on a tree branch, died, and was already gone by the time he'd hit the ground.  Now, if you knew my dad, you would know how utterly ridiculous this hypothesis was.  My dad had been through some crazy shit and he was such a strong man physically, with a hard head! No stupid ass tree branch could have killed him. So, against everyone's wishes, I obtained the autopsy report.  I did this because in my mind I felt that if he had to go through it then I could, at the very least, know what he had experienced, whether it haunted me or not - I had to know truth! 

It took a long time, and a lot of talking to myself and to friends about my dad's death to finally be able to embrace it for what it was.

So, here I am.  And I remember sitting in the hospital room with my mom and she had been informed that she was going to die soon, and I watched her sleeping and thinking about what she must be going through mentally as well.  How does one prepare oneself to die?  She was raised in a very strong religious background.  She never questioned her faith.  Did she now?  If so, she never let it show.  I did.  What if? What if people created this idea of a God to ease there sorrows and fears about death?  What proof was there really?  The bible?  *scoffs*  This is me: you can not prove God because of a book written by men who felt they were being "led by God".  This book, at the time it was being translated was written in a language so old that no one currently spoke the language or fully grasped it. This book, that has been so carefully canonized. This book, that Catholic religious leaders called for it's translation also threatened it's translators with death.  This book which differs from religion to religion in literal form and translation - and whose to say which religion is right?  So don't talk to me in Bible.  Talk to me in Love.

Don't get me wrong! I don't hate the Bible!  It's a good foundation.  I simply don't believe it is always to be taken literally, and often the Bible is it's own best source of contradiction.

I used to feel God was in the wind, the leaves, the grass, the sky.  But now, since mom's death, I just don't know anything.

No comments:

Post a Comment