Musings

Its after 2am and I am sitting in my room thinking about death. Death as a concept, death as a general whole. About all the people that I have cared about that have passed away, about those that I have never known that have. Its been almost 2 years since my stepfather was killed, been almost 4 since my friend kevin died, which amazes me. In retrospect that seems like such a long time, when in my mind it doesnt seem possible that so much time has passed. It doesnt make sense when you try to articulate it.

Saddam Hussein was executed today. Gerald Ford died earlier this week, along with James Brown. What a strage trio to go out semi-together. They always say that death comes in threes, and thats one weird threesome.

Everyone believes something different about what happens when you die. Some people believe in Heaven and Hell. Some people believe in an afterlife, some believe that you just become worm food and that's the end of that. As I studied religion in college, and religion is basically a belief system that tells you what happens when you die, (and how to avoid a result you dont like by living your life a certain way) I would consider myself at the very least well read on the subject and the differences therein. Now, for everyone who may or may not be reading this, I mean no offense by this post, or to seem as though I believe that your belief has less merit than another. That is not the case, and I dont mean for it to seem as such.

Anyway.

Some people believe that when you die, you go to a Heaven or a Hell of your own making--as what is idyllic and wonderful for one person is kinda so-so for another, and what is torturous and horrid for one is not so bad for another. (this is what we call the "what dreams may come" version, thomas and I) I think about this option a lot. What would heaven be like, for me, if I made it for myself? Hell? I suppose I dont really know, as I havent been put in that situation before, and hopefully wont for some time. What I think of most often is of the people I love, what is their heaven or hell like? Is my stepfather fishing in Patagonia, his father and grandfather at his side? Is he sitting on a rocking chair, whittling and playing the harmonica to the grandchildren he never got to meet? Is he courting my mother all over again? Or is he alone, with only the knowledge of the "legacy" he left behind with his death? Knowing all the pain he caused me and my mom, the horrible things that happened to us after and because of his death? I know that would be torture for him.

Another version that I think of often is that everyone goes to a "holding area", (Very "Emil, you're going to be a dog") where they reflect on the lives they led, and the impact they had on the people around them, and think of what they could have done differently. What lessons they failed to learn this time around, before they dive back in and do it all over again. (Semi-Buddhism. Semi.) Or in this holding area, they sit and hang out with everyone they've lost, and all the people they have wanted to meet but didnt get the chance. Is my stepfather sitting with his grandparents, and his dad and uncle, playing cards with Janis Joplin and Jim Morrison?

I have discussed this with a friend of mine who has also lost parental figures (Pretzel Fingers--ask me about that one sometime), and I think we were both given comfort by the idea of her parent and mine sitting up there, drinking beer and telling embarrassing stories about the two of us, just as they would have done down here. They're laughing, and joking, and rooting us on, fingers crossed that we turn out the way they always dreamed we would, they way they raised us to. Cheering at our triumphs and weeping at our losses over a game of croquet, a bonfire and some good beer.

I think that idea gives me the most comfort. Its like in "the Lonely Bones", when the girl dies and is reunited with her childhood dog, and every night her all the animals come out to play with her--thats her heaven--but she can watch her family from above and talk about it with other people. She says that Heaven isnt what she expected it to be, but it was good, just the same. I like the idea of the people I love being happy, in a sense that I can understand and articulate, doing the things that they loved most. Keeping the memories of me close to heart the way I do them.

Its upsetting to me, actually, that there is a possibility that I will never see terry again. I have only dreamed about him twice that I remember, and both dreams were traumatizing. Always, from the time I was a small child, believed that you got to see the people (and animals!) you loved that passed away when you passed away yourself. that it wasnt permanent. That they were just gone, and would be waiting for you when it was your turn--they would be there, with open arms, and be genuinely happy to see you--that they had missed you as much as you missed them, and that finally, FINALLY, you could see eachother again and talk about all the things you had missed doing together.

that, I guess, is heaven. And I really hope its true.