When I was a much younger version of myself, there was an order to my existence. Life and death made sense to me because science told me the truth about the universe. The one thing I thought I knew was that energy could not be created or destroyed. So the concept of Heaven and Hell were just mythical constructs created by man to rationalize death.
We simply choose to place our loved ones in the Here-After to create the illusion that we might one day see them again. It eased the sorrow we felt at their passing. I understood that and I accepted death as a simple transference of energy from one thing to another.
Death made sense to me because ‘age’ dictated that people had outlived their life span. After all, our bodies are frail things and can only sustain life for a finite amount of time.
Besides, I was young and healthy. Any thoughts of the end were far from my mind. Maybe I would live forever or at least technology would develop to a point where our lifespans would make it seem like forever.
Oh yes, I was happy with my beliefs.
But that was when I was young.
The voices of destiny have started to whisper their harsh words of mortality into my ears. It’s no secret that I am the next to youngest of fifteen children. Now whatever your thoughts on that might be; we can discuss on some future blog. The reason I mention it here is because, much too quickly, my huge family has dwindled from fifteen children to seven.
And now, my body is moving further down that corridor of existence, and I can feel it beginning to break apart. Age is forcing my beliefs to crumble and I find myself spending more and more time (probably too much time) thinking about what the future holds for me.
So, I need to believe that I’ve been wrong all these years. I’m hoping that there’s something more than just the now and that there is some place set aside for me in the after.