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Where Do We REALLY Go After We Die?
A couple of weeks ago, my father-in-law transitioned from this world into the mysterious place we all will eventually teleport to in the event of our inevitable demise. We all have our ideas of what or where that could be. Some might say Heaven (or Hell). Others may say some sort of an afterlife. He himself even conversed with me at length many times about his own supposition. The truth is none of us know. But we were prepared for his departure. Prepared as we could be. That didn’t do much to take the edge off of the sting that comes with such a loss, though.
It hurt.
Of course, there was pain for the obvious reason. For me, though, it hurt to see the people I love hurting. I figured if we could make it past the services, the mountain of grief towering ahead of us would become easier to climb. Possibly we could reach a summit of hope where we could see normalcy in the distance and everything would be just fine…like some kind of happy ending to a mediocre movie. That’s what I evangelized, at least.
That’s because I had a twisted ass kind of self-confidence. The kind of fucked up confidence I gained from having lived thru the experience of many other deaths — even the death of my own father. I guess I thought I knew what to expect.
