Dregs

And thus I sample the bitter dregs of the cup of atheism, likely not for the last time. We buried Susan this weekend, her parents, her friends and I. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done, almost as bad a burying Papa in 1988. There are 4 other people; Geoff, Becky, Jim and my sister who would be even harder for me, but this was plenty difficult. And I had to get through it without the comfort of knowing I would ever see her again. Lots of folks, especially her parents, took comfort in the idea of being reunited in the afterlife, and I truly, deeply and sincerely hope they are right. But I couldn’t. I tried. I tried hard to think I might be wrong, that there might be something after, that somehow, some way, her mind was elsewhere, being computed by who knows what. That I would see her again, and everyone else that I ever have, or ever would lose. I wanted badly to believe I’d see her again, hear her voice, and tell her a joke.

It was no use. I just couldn’t. She’s gone, her neurons scrambled. The delicate connections, networks and processes that made her taken by chaos and entropy. She is done and lives only in the memories of her friends and family. Atheism is a tough road, harder in many ways than the comfort of the illusion of order, justice and dreams. It gives much in the way of freedom and truth, but provides few shields from tragedy, loss and sorrow. When I face death, it seems I must face it square on. With reason. With rationality. Without the comfort of self-deception.

I shall miss her greatly, but I do draw some tiny comfort from the idea that, were our positions reversed, she would likely be thinking the exact same thing.