If this is a test, then I've failed.
I'm having a hard time dealing with my dad's death.
I'm finding that my personal philosophy regarding death and the afterlife is being challenged. My faith - what little faith I had - is falling to pieces.
See, everybody keeps talking about heaven and how he's in heaven now, fishing and walking. Heck, even I said that right after he died. But I don't believe that. I wish I could; it'd make this a lot easier and much less painful.
I simply don't believe. It's not because I haven't tried, I've tried and tried and tried to convince myself that there's a heaven where we will all meet again and get to do the things we loved to do on earth. I've tried to convince myself that the way to heaven is a belief on god and in christ. I just CAN'T. I DON'T believe, and I have some serious doubts that I ever will.
Even my personal philosophy is being challenged. I always thought that I'd feel his presence after he died. In all the times I've sat with someone as they were dying, I've never once felt their soul leave their body. I could SEE a distinct change in their body, but I've never felt it and I've always told myself that it was because I've never stuck around more than an hour or so after the death had occured and I wasn't even related to that person, so why would they want to make their presence known to me? They'd have to reason to. I haven't felt my dad's presence. I've been on my knees in prayer more times than I care to think about in the past few days, asking god to please ease my pain, to give my some comfort and to let me know my dad's ok.
I've felt nothing. Not a darn thing. Which leads me to conclude that: a) god's pissed off at me and doesn't want to talk to me;
god is either dead, not real and a figment of our imagination or c) we don't have souls and that this plane of existence is IT....that there's nothing else. No afterlife.
Of course, I'm sure I'll be told that I'm not praying in the right way, that I'm doing something wrong. I'm sorry, but any god who can ignore a person who's on her knees sobbing her heart out as she's asking for help because she didn't say the right prayer in the right way....well, I want nothing to do with a god who would do such a thing.
I'm leaning towards
and c), that's what's killing me. The thought that I'm never going to see dad again and that this life we have here is all we have....well, that's hard to take.
My husband has made me an appointment to see a chaplain tomorrow. I don't know how it's going to go. He told that chapel staff that I'd need to see the less-religious guy because I'm liable to walk out on someone who tosses scripture at me and who tells me that I'm not saved and that's why god is ignoring me - and he's right. That's exactly what I'll do. I don't need that crap right now, I've got enough stress to be going on with. I also don't need well-meaning but tactless christians spewing shite about how unless you're reborn you're never going to get to heaven as they point their gold and jewel encrusted fingers at me and drive away in their Lincoln Navigators. Camels and needle-eyes comes to mind during those situations, and it's usually on the tip of my tongue - I just lack the balls to say it.
Dad's death has left a gaping hole in the fabric of my life. I know that eventually that hole will be filled in and repaired- but as with any fabric, you'll be able to see where it's been repaired. It'll leave a mark that'll always be there. I am father-less, and it hurts. I cannot even begin to explain how had it is......it's like a thousand broken hearts all at once. It's crippling; it takes my breath away. There's no medication for this, there aren't any painkillers or pills that I can take to make the pain any less. The best I can do is not think about it too much, because thinking about it makes it hurt. The thing is, I HAVE to think about it. I can't bury my head in the sand and hope I can stay there until it's all over and the pain is gone away. My mum needs me, and I need her. I have to think about flowers for the service (the university declined to accept his body so he's getting his next-best wish and is being cremated), I have to think about his will and I know mum's going to ask me what I'd like to keep of his as a memento. I can't just ignore it; that's not going to do any good. So, I guess I'll just have to find some way to deal with the hurt.
Someone told me that this is gods way of testing me. If that's true, then I've failed.