For Whom The Bell Tolls

The theme for yesterday was death for 500, Alex. 

In the morning, I found out that my grandma's favorite and one of her few surviving cousins had died. Later in the day, I discovered that one of my beloved Xavier brothers had died. I also had a lengthy conversation with P about the afterlife. It was brutal. Brutal and heavy. 

As a Muslim, he feels like Christians don't think enough about the afterlife, while Muslims live with the afterlife at the forefront of their minds. I don't find this to be true, at least not at my church. There is plenty of talk about going to Heaven and the proper way to get there. This is especially troubling for me, seeing that I like to think about death and the journey after the way it was described to me as a child. We all have to die, but we die to go see Jesus, who lives in Heaven. Heaven is a beautiful place, and when you get there, you will get to see everyone who died before you. There was no talk of Hell, sin, or unbearable heat. There was only talk of a beautiful place to chill with your elders once your time is up. 

I prayed that both my grand-cousin and Xavier brother made it to Heaven. I am choosing to believe that they are now surrounded by the love of God and not oven-roasting to the soundtrack of eternal screams. The world, especially today, has a way of bombarding you with bad news and fears and disappointments and horrors. With that being said, is it so bad to want to believe that we all will one day be with God in an amazing paradise? How are we supposed to understand the stresses of the day while reconciling with the idea that we may also be going to Hell? How can we be present in the day if we are afraid of burning alive tomorrow?

I'm not sure, but according to P, we'd better figure it out because judgment starts at the moment of death. The very second our life ends, the trial starts. I cringe at the idea of having to explain to God why I have done some of the dumb stuff that I have done when there was a published book of His wishes available that I ignored. Yeah, I am going to stick with the Sunday school version of Heaven for myself and for the people I know who have passed on. I don't think I have the bandwidth to accept any of the other alternatives. 

Death

I have been thinking a lot about death lately. I have been thinking about death, about how I am going to die, about when I am going to die, about where I am going to die, etc. I have found myself thinking about my family members who have died and my memories with them; my great-grandma, my grandma, my mom, etc. I have also been thinking about my friends who have died. Just this morning, I found myself crying (again) over a man I went to elementary school with. I had such a crush on him in the 1st grade. He was a sweet boy. A year or two ago, he died of a heart attack. A man who ran road races died of a heart attack, can you believe it? I am taking note of these feelings just in case preoccupation with death is a sign that you are about to die. I do believe that there are signs that people experience, but they do not document them because they do not consider them signs or did, but never got around to chronicling them. 

Have you been keeping up with 3i Atlas, the "comet" that is making its way through the solar system from a different star system? Some people believe it is an alien mothership from somewhere deep inside the cosmos. Something about it has caused me to ponder where we go when we die. Didn't Einstein or someone say that our energies never die? Is that energy what we would consider our souls? Do they go to heaven, or do they just float around or end up in space or something? I have seen videos on Instagram of Teslas at graveyards. Apparently, their GPS systems are so sensitive that they pick up ghosts on their cameras as if they are people to make sure that you don't hit. Are those the energies of the people six feet under? I think about these things. 

Perhaps these are just the thoughts that begin to creep into your mind more frequently when you are in your 40s. A boy I went to college with just had a baby with his wife, and I found myself wondering if they were scared that they were going to die. I mean, it's kind of late to be having your first child, isn't it? They will be in their 60s when their daughter graduates college, you know...if they don't die first. I guess they aren't worried about it. They seem pretty happy. 

I am wise enough to know that your death is much like the end of the world; no man knows that time nor the hour. I guess the best we can do is prepare for it is by living a life that is to die for. 

The Grieving Posts 4: The Jesus Piece

The other day I woke up feeling particularly upset about my mom, so I rolled over and texted P. It was very, very early and since he is a nurse that works those crazy nurse hours, I knew he was awake. I vomited all my emotions about everything in this text that was very long, and his response was simply, "You need to pray to Allah." Ugh! With his devout Muslim self. I should have known that was going to be his response.
For some reason, I was taken back to earlier last year when I talked to my friend Gail. She had been through it over the past few years. I am talking bad relationships, car repossessions, lost jobs, etc. When she called me, it sounded like the sun was finally coming out in her life. Seeing that she has always been a Super Christian, I said, "Don't forget to thank God for seeing you through." That is when she dropped a bomb on me: she is now practicing Santeria.
I wanted to be respectful of what she had just said, but I was still like, "What?!" This is a girl that was so God-fearing that she was afraid to do anything! She had once given me a stern talking to because I had told her I had had a conversation with some Mormons. Now she's gettin' Babalawo with it? It didn't make any sense. So, she went on to explain why she was beginning to practice and it all boiled down to her wanting to feel in control of her destiny and not wanting to feel like she was just a pawn at God's will. I understood what she was saying, but it also sounded like she was mad a God.
Yes, I lost my mom, but I'm not mad at God. I understand that as hurtful as this all is, it is all part of the cycle of life. However, I also do not feel like praying as P suggested either because I know that God knows what is going on. I have always felt connected to Him, so I also know that he knows how I am feeling. I am still praying to God for a good job. I am still praying for more money. I am still praying for a better hairstyle for my facial shape and a one-term Trump presidency, but for some reason, I just can't pray on my mom or anything that has to do with her.When the doctors came into the waiting area and told us that she had died, I prayed that He would let her into Heaven. Maybe that was all the conversation that He and I needed to have. Who knows? I'm no theologian, just a girl trying to deal.