Confessions (cont)
This morning I wake up to a voicemail from my mother telling me that my grandmother has not been doing real well physically for about the past few days, and might not make it to Christmas. About half an hour after that I get a call that she has died. She was 91 years old. In 1992 her husband died at age 92. Longevity seems to run in my family. The last time I saw my Grandma was in august when I went home to Wyoming to visit my family. She seemed to be doing fine, but then again, this was august...and she was 91.
Sidenote: Three days ago I posted for friends, acquaintances, and some people I've never even met...as well as those who may just happen to come across this blog by accident...my own personal thoughts on who I am as compared to who I once was. The funny thing about this is I have yet to find the courage to let my family know that this is how I feel. They are aware that I no longer go to church, but for them it ends there. They don't know truly how far removed I am from religion altoghether. I haven't told them for a few reasons. First and foremost...it would break their hearts. I know that in some families differing religious philosophies have actually led to a complete familial falling out. I am not afraid of this exactly. I've always known that my family will always love and support me no matter who or what I am, but they would be incredibly sad, and what loving son wants to do this to his family. Secondly, well...it's never come up. I suppose if my father asked me direct questions...I would answer honestly, but I will probably always be far to gutless to be the one to bring it up. I mean really...it seems rather pointless.
So today while talking to my father...he of course was sad, it is his mother after all, but through his sadness he seemed a bit relieved that she was out of pain, and incredibly happy that she had today reunited with her husband. That idea brings him so much joy, and I think that's fantastic. But I don't share it.
I always thought that a more athieistic viewpoint on life would make death harder to accept, and difficult to get through. Without the comfort of the promise of an afterlife...I figured it would seem awful to face death. Ironically...I'm facing this one easier than any other I ever have. It becomes so much easier to celebrate her life...than mourn her death.
The idea of her reuniting somewhere in some idealistc place with her husband is incredibly romantic, and beautiful. But I like remembering her as a part of my life. The influence she had on me. The wonderful things she both taught and shared with me. I realize that she is a part of me, and therefore always alive inside of me. When I go...then I'll remain with the people who love me and have shared with me life experience.
Wether or not her soul...or essence...or conciousness is still existing on some other plane becomes to me irrelevant outside of esoteric and philosophical discussion. It may...or may not. But her life was beautiful. She was beautiful. And will always be beautiful to me. So Long Live Grandma. Long Live You. For you too have touched me, and are part of me, and I love you for that.
Long live us all...
Sidenote: Three days ago I posted for friends, acquaintances, and some people I've never even met...as well as those who may just happen to come across this blog by accident...my own personal thoughts on who I am as compared to who I once was. The funny thing about this is I have yet to find the courage to let my family know that this is how I feel. They are aware that I no longer go to church, but for them it ends there. They don't know truly how far removed I am from religion altoghether. I haven't told them for a few reasons. First and foremost...it would break their hearts. I know that in some families differing religious philosophies have actually led to a complete familial falling out. I am not afraid of this exactly. I've always known that my family will always love and support me no matter who or what I am, but they would be incredibly sad, and what loving son wants to do this to his family. Secondly, well...it's never come up. I suppose if my father asked me direct questions...I would answer honestly, but I will probably always be far to gutless to be the one to bring it up. I mean really...it seems rather pointless.
So today while talking to my father...he of course was sad, it is his mother after all, but through his sadness he seemed a bit relieved that she was out of pain, and incredibly happy that she had today reunited with her husband. That idea brings him so much joy, and I think that's fantastic. But I don't share it.
I always thought that a more athieistic viewpoint on life would make death harder to accept, and difficult to get through. Without the comfort of the promise of an afterlife...I figured it would seem awful to face death. Ironically...I'm facing this one easier than any other I ever have. It becomes so much easier to celebrate her life...than mourn her death.
The idea of her reuniting somewhere in some idealistc place with her husband is incredibly romantic, and beautiful. But I like remembering her as a part of my life. The influence she had on me. The wonderful things she both taught and shared with me. I realize that she is a part of me, and therefore always alive inside of me. When I go...then I'll remain with the people who love me and have shared with me life experience.
Wether or not her soul...or essence...or conciousness is still existing on some other plane becomes to me irrelevant outside of esoteric and philosophical discussion. It may...or may not. But her life was beautiful. She was beautiful. And will always be beautiful to me. So Long Live Grandma. Long Live You. For you too have touched me, and are part of me, and I love you for that.
Long live us all...
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