Neither of my parents were ever fans of organized religion, especially the monotheistic, dominant versions floating around out there. As I kid, I remember clearly my parents talking about how the tenets of those religions were nonsense and that many of those most ardent and public adherents were hypocrites. I was never raised with a faith, other than the one in myself and the people that proved to me they deserved mine. As they passed through their adult lives, both my parents have explored spirituality in various forms, just as I have done. I can’t say for sure, but I think my mom became much more open to spirituality. She used to say she didn’t really care what happened after she was dead because she wasn’t going to know anything about it—she was going to be dead. However her beliefs about spirituality changed, I don’t think her take on what happened when you die changed. I, on the other hand, have always been a lot less sure of what happens when you die. I am not sure I believe in heaven, but I don’t think you go away completely either.
My mom died yesterday afternoon after a long encounter with cancer. She died at home with her dogs nearby and her garden right outside her glass doors. My dad worked very hard to make sure it happened that way, because that is how she wanted it. I’d like to say she died with her dignity intact, but no one who dies from a long illness that saps their life force has that chance. She remained dignified and handled everything with as much strength and humor as anyone possibly could. I am relieved because her existence at the end was awful and she was ready to go. But I am sad because she is gone.
And now she is gone. She didn’t think there was anything after death—I guess now she knows.
