I'm a believer. I'm not ashamed of it, it's who I am. Not a believer in the sense of enforced childhood participation in the church of my parent's choice. A believer in the sense that deeply to my center core, I believe in God. Don't know which God but in my world there is a God. I'm pretty sure it's the same God everyone follows. Different names, same deity. A creator.
As a believer I do not associate with any church or congregation. I fly solo. Just me and my beliefs.
My belief in God's creation goes from seed to bloom to wilting but beyond that I'm not so sure. Is there an after life? Sounds good but I won't know until I know. Being blessed enough in life is good enough for me. I do believe that at the end those who went before us will be sitting on a bench at the door that leads to who knows what.
As my Mom was dying, I was fully confident that in the room with us in spirit were my Dad and her Mother. Just sitting on the bench waiting for her. They were patient. Their souls quiet while we waited. Me to say "goodbye", them to say "hello".
Last Fall as I sat with a family friend at her nursing home, I felt that same quiet company but this time not my family but her's. Her sisters and brothers, the one man she truly loved. All waiting for her to step into their arms. As we held her hands and felt her breathing stop I knew without looking that her soul was walking away arm in arm with those she loved so much. They'd been waiting. They were ready, she was ready. They went joyfully toward the door that leads to who knows what.
I do not fear death, nor do I actively seek it. I know I've written those words before. A fellow blogger's recent posting has me thinking about that great beyond and what waits for us. When I try to picture it I'm not seeing streets paved with gold or a gaggle of virgins. I'm seeing nothing. Just blank space, empty canvas. I'm sure it will fill in someday. Colors and shapes and hopefully faces I know and miss. My childhood friend, Gregory taken from life by Leukemia. Not an easy thing to grasp as a child. My first "date" Andy, his mental pain so overwhelming that he felt he had no choice but to stop the noises in his head himself. My Aunt and Uncles, friends I knew, murders, suicides, illness, old age, accidents. The means didn't matter. For each of them as I mentally look back the images in my mind tell me their soul was met with tears, love and hugs. And then they walked away, somewhere, with those who waited for them.
If you're a fan of 'Dead like me' and I am, then you know at the end of each episode as the reaper freed the soul, that soul went off into whatever it was that Heaven was for them. I like that. I hope for that. But I'm not sure. The only thing I am sure of is that as my Mother passed, as Aunt Sally passed, those they loved so deeply were all there just sitting on a bench waiting for them. And as their souls moved on, they went with those loved ones and walked through that door to know one knows what.
There may be a heaven. There may not. What I do believe is that as I go and my loved ones say goodbye to who I am, those who went before me will be right there to say "hello. We've been sitting here on this bench waiting for you. Let's go."
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