I don't know what will happen when I die, or what happens to anyone. I want to believe that spirits are with us, angels, helping us along. I want to believe that there's a heaven where Nana and Papa are playing poker with everyone, and Nana has beautiful teeth and Papa has long, flowing hair. I want to believe that even though I can't imagine it, how it could work, where it might be, that something wonderful happens to us after we pass on.
But the scientist kicks in, too often. How can you be an angel and in heaven? Are you like Santa Claus or something, only visiting once in a while? I'm an eight-year-old, asking Big Questions, all with no answers. Why do I have to figure it out at all? Because: scientist. I need to explain it; I need to rationalize it. But here's the thing: one day I will know the answer. And that freaks me out.
Because I can't explain what will happen, I say I don't believe. Because my head can't wrap itself around something that can't be proven, I say that I don't believe that anything happens when you die. I know, it's called faith because you have to believe but the logical part of me prevents me from having that faith. There's nothing there, because I can't imagine what could be there.
But, here's the thing: I still pray when I have times I need to be stronger. I still ask for help from above, an above I say I don't believe in. I still imagine that Nana can see me now. And this comforts me.
(for Richard, who inspires belief)
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