This morning I wished that I was a religious person. I think it would be nice to believe in God, to believe in an afterlife, to have faith, to have peace.
My grandmother died yesterday. She was one of the most amazing people I have ever known. She lived 97 years, 10 months and 15 days.
She took care of me a lot when I was a child. I loved to go over to her house and spend time with her. She loved children. She created various card games to play with me (Four on the Board was a personal favorite of mine – though the rules long ago succumbed to senile dementia). She was always up for anything.
Over the past five years, her mind slipped away. It killed me to see her like that. I left her house bawling this past Christmas (she didn’t know it was Christmas and probably couldn’t fathom the meaning of Christmas at that time). I perhaps only saw her 5-10 times between Christmas and now. Days, weeks flew by and I hadn’t seen her. Then it was too late… I am really struggling with this. I loved her so much and I feel like I may have let her down because I wanted to remember her as she was. She was always there for me, and I was busy with my own life…
So, I ask myself – what happens after we die? I wish I had faith, I wish I had an answer. Nobody in my family has died since I was 14. Nobody this close to me has ever died. Is she out there? If she is, at what stage in her life is her soul at? Is she young and carefree or is she old and confused? Is she with her husband and loved ones or do they all cease to exist?
To me, she will remain my grandma who really loved me. But, she was so much more, she was young like me, she was a girl, a sweetheart, a new wife, a mother…
Why can’t I just believe? It would be such a comfort.
I am crying at the computer. I am a mess.