When I die I hope to go to heaven, where ever the hell that is.....Ayn Rand

I am sure if you're a Walking Dead fan you've seen the new episode that has everyone talking. There is one line from a particularly heart wrenching scene that keeps popping up in my head. The one where Glen just had his head bashed by Lucille, eyeball popping out, him reaching for his beloved Maggie and trying to form the words "I will find you".  That moment stuck with me, not for the eye ball popping gore, although that does make me nauseous to this moment, but the sentiment. I will find you.

It made me think, could he? Would he find her after he crossed to the next level of existence? Would he watch over his pregnant love? Would he wait for her on the other side? Would they find each other someday? So many questions. 

It brought me to the question my husband asked me right before his dad passed, after every thing he witnessed, "I wonder what it's like? Dying, I wonder what happens". 

My knee jerk reaction is well as a Catholic, I believe that we go to heaven if we are truly repentant. That there is this mass of souls floating somewhere and hopefully we will find each other there. But then I think about my friends who don't believe like I do. 

Where do they go?  What happens to them?  I know every belief system has something they adhere to with end of life issues.  Do we all meet up and have an amazing end of life party??

I sometimes question my beliefs though.  If there really is an after life, why isn't there someone who came back?  To tell us they're ok. Come floating down, harp in tow to tell us what happens. To not be afraid.  Brad said maybe you can't. But that begs the question why not? I mean if you're a spirit and floating around why not? 

After my dad died, right after we came back home from NY, one morning while I was particularly missing him, and everything was still pretty fresh and raw, I found a penny on my bedroom floor. A pretty unremarkable event in itself, but what was remarkable was the date on the penny. It was minted in 1939. The year my father was born. Odd coincidence no?  Was this my dad's small way of letting me know that he had indeed crossed into the afterlife.  That he was truly ok?  Or what about my dream with my best friend, where I swear she was really sitting there with me after  she died in that car crash?  Was that her way of sneaking back to let me know all was good?  

I brought this all up to my daughter who is studying religions in college right now and she posed some really interesting thoughts.  One of my favorites was when she questioned who has souls? Do animals have souls?  Why do they say animals won't go to heaven if they have to have a soul to live. Why wouldn't they go to heaven then?  Is there really such a thing as a bad animal? Would say a dog be a bad dog because he bit someone?  She brought up how in psychology good behavior brings good consequences, bad behavior brings bad consequences, sort of the basis of all religions in a way really. 

The discussion went on and on until she finally got up to make a pot of coffee because in her words, it was too early to start having an existentialist crisis.  Too funny.  I guess caffeine cures all lol.

I just got off of the phone with my mom who brought up, out of the blue, something that happened to her today.  She walked into her laundry room and she said she was hit with a smell she hadn't smelled in years.  The smell of Mennen Speed Stick.  My father wore that deodorant all of the time.  She said he put it on like a layer of spackle every morning.  That would ordinarily be no big deal, but the thing is dad passed away almost 13 years ago.  My mom said she picked up every piece of laundry smelling it, looking for a source of the odor.  Only she couldn't find it.  What if it was my dad trying to let my mom know he was there with her again?  What if he was wrapping his ethereal arms around her, sneaking a hug?  I smiled at that thought.  I know my dad fought his way back from life support to be with mom, only to have the staff infection take him away.  I believe in my heart he was just checking in on my mom.  He fought so hard, so many times, for so many years not to leave her.  I believe he just might have come to see she was still doing well.

There is the part of me that wishes there was some one who had an answer to all that confounds me. Maybe like my oldest daughter said, when I read the start of this to her, that death is something so many are afraid of that no one wants to know the answers.  No one wants to try and figure out the answers. Maybe, but a part of me wants to know my loved ones are ok and happy.

"Exploring the unknown requires tolerating uncertainty" ~ Brian Greene

So what do you think?  I have friends from all faith and non faith ideals.  Feel free to leave comments regarding your beliefs about the afterlife.  I would love to hear what you think.  In the mean time, I will continue to let this bounce around inside my head.

God made death so we'd know when to stop. ~Steven Stiles

I intend to live forever. So far, so good. ~Steven Wright

“I believe that what we become depends on what our fathers teach us at odd moments, when they aren’t trying to teach us.” – Umberto Eco

While traveling back from what was supposed to be a surprise birthday visit for his dad, that turned into what it did, my husband scripted a note to his dad and shared it with me.  I asked my husband if I could post this on my blog, permission was granted with his blessing.  Hope you are enjoying your coffee and newspaper this morning dad.  Thank you for sharing this with us honey, it is truly beautiful. 'Nuff said, please enjoy.

Some gifts are more important then others. 

This past week I was able to spend a lot of time with my dad.  It turned out to be his final days and hours on this earth.  During some of the quiet moments sitting there with him I was able to reflect on all the gifts he gave me over my life. 

I'm not talking about toy trains and race car sets.  While he did give me plenty of those.  I'm talking about the kind of gifts that you can't put a bow on and that don't  fit in a box.  The kind of gifts that you keep with you your entire life and hopefully pass on to your children and that they in turn  pass on to theirs.  He gave me gifts that have no price tags but are priceless. 

My father gave me the following gifts.  

Fatherhood. He taught me what it means to be a good father. That being a father is more then the physical act of reproducing a child it is a life long responsibility of doing the best that you can to love, nurture and raise your children.   

Loyalty.  He taught me that you don't let others down that you stand by them and if you make a commitment to them you stick with it.   

Integrity.  He taught me that your word is your bond.  Don't say things if you don't mean them.  Don't lie, cheat or steal to get ahead.  

Love.  He taught me about love.  That it is unconditional and that it is okay to say it often and express it to those that you do.  

Friendship.  He taught me about friendship.  That while you don't have to have hundreds of friends that you should cherish the ones that you have. 

Emotions. He taught me that it is okay for a man to show emotions.  That it is okay to cry.  That it's not a sign of weakness but a sign of confidence and compassion. 

Hard Work.  He taught me to always give your best and work hard.  Whether on a job, on the playing field or just in life, always give 100%.  

Kindness.  He taught me to always be kind and polite to others.  To help those that need it.  To do some simple things daily like hold the door for people and say please and thank you.  

These gifts that he gave me carry no monetary value.  They aren't in listed in a will and there is no estate tax on them. But I couldn't ask for a better inheritance from him.  He gave me gifts that make me strive to be a better person everyday.  To hopefully be able to pass these gifts onto my girls and hope that they will pass them on to their children.  I already see it with my oldest and how she is raising her son. 

So dad let me once again say thank you and that your legacy will hopefully live on for generations.  I love you and miss you so much already. 

“He didn’t tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it.” 
– Clarence Budington Kelland

The simple things in life brought the biggest pleasure in the twilight of his....

"I'm going to get better, then I am going to have a cup of coffee, I am going to read the newspaper, I am going to have a strawberry milkshake, I'm going to read a book...."  Things my father in law rattled off to my husband that he'd like to do when he gets better.  Only he isn't going to get better.

The simple things in life, symbolic of a far simpler time.  Times that bring back the joys of maybe swinging on a porch swing at dusk in the summertime, going swimming in his favorite swimming hole with his friends when he was younger, mooning the trains that went by (one of the stories he loved to entertain my girls with when they were little).   The simpler things that represent my father in law, who now lies in a hospital bed, a former shell of himself.

My girls face-timed him today, before they moved him to hospice, to say they love him one more time.  While he is lucid and knows them again.  One more time before he slips into the clouds of his mind that his Alzheimer's brings.

A man from humble origins.  His mom and dad came over from England and settled in the West Chicago area.  His dad was a brick mason by trade, and he'd do a handstand atop every chimney he completed.  My father in law spoke very rarely of his dad.  I believe it was too painful for him.  He had the unfortunate luck of finding his dad after his father decided to end his own life.  An event that so desperately scarred him, depression haunted him his entire life because of this.

He and my mother in law married later than average for their time.  They didn't rush to get married at 18 as was de rigueur, adopted my husband even later than most people do for the era they were born in to.  He liked listening to big band music, loved golf, but then loved things like watching the Sopranos.  He was an amazing golf player during his younger life, even worked as Arnold Palmer's vice president back when you came home to a martini waiting for you from your wife before dinner and smoking a pack or two a day wasn't an issue according to doctors.  Hell they might even recommend your brand for you.

We moved this lovely human being into hospice this evening, because as he said during moments of his lucidity today, I've been sick a long time.  It seems like it.  Like Brad and I said, he was healthy for 87 and a half years, the last year and a half will not be how we remember him.  I choose to remember the man I met 27 years ago, who cried when he met the woman who had captured his son's heart. The man who brought Beau treats because Beau tickled him so.  The man who played the dollar game with my girls until the shaking in his hands got to be too much and he stopped playing it.

He had many health issues through his life, but overcame things like his heart disease or diabetes problems and did his best to take good care of himself, dieting and exercising although he did hide potato chips in his car so my mother in law wouldn't find them.  I won't mention how he longed to stop at the roadside stands that sold beef jerky near his villa in FL.

All it took was pulling three teeth, and his world unravelled.  The bleeding wouldn't stop, turns out he developed acquired hemophilia for no apparent reason they could ever find, and after that stint in the hospital to stop his bleeding from those three teeth, he was never the same.  It seemed to accelerate the rate of confusion he encountered.  The medicines they put him on to control his new condition made him tired, cranky and he stopped wanting to eat.  The man who loved nothing better than a bratwurst, a piece of standing rib roast with Yorkshire pudding,  anything hardy, because no dainty finger sandwiches would do for my father in law.  The man who I loved to feed, because the Italian in me was overjoyed when he ate until he was ready to burst and he thanked me for making him dinner. He stopped eating.  He stopped caring.

Today, this beautiful human being went to hospice, to wait for the last breath he will breathe.  And we all wait with him.  Wait for him to go softly into that goodnight because the night is falling for you dad.

You are surrounded by those who love you, like that line from Ghost I often quote because I know in my heart it's true, the love inside, you take it with you.  I know you are feeling that love inside, and I know you are taking it with you.

Until we all see each other again.  Please scratch Beau's big, old Boxer chest for me.  I know he will be waiting for his treat from you, and let my dad know how much I miss him and how well I am doing!

“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief…and unspeakable love.”– Washington Irving