As both of you know, I am an atheist. As both of you know, my dad is dying with Lou Gehrig’s disease. As both of you know, this has become a source of unbearable stress on the entire Leone clan. We are all dealing with it as a family, but in our own way.
A conversation I got into recently (actually an amalgamation of a few conversations I have had recently) boiled down essentially to some variation of this statement: If you believe in God, and therefore heaven, then at least you can find comfort in knowing that you and your dad will be together again some day. In the meantime, you could be happy knowing that your father will be with God in heaven. Don’t you want that for him?
It is important to note that I don’t believe in god in the same way I don’t believe in Santa Claus. I may want so badly to believe that a jolly fat man will land on my roof every year and provide me with a Hot Wheel loop-the-loop track. But wanting it does not make it happen. Desire does not validate . I can drop to my knees, pray to any one of the gods, look to the heavens, speak in tongues, belt out hymns in a church, drink chicken blood and absolutely none of that will make Santa drop down my even more non-existent chimney.
What keeps me up at night; what makes me cry at the drop of a hat; what worries me; what stresses me out and what can grab hold of me and punch me in my face is not that my father is going to die. Death is a part of life. What gets me mad, is that my dad will suffer. He is suffering. His body, his spirit and his dignity are slowly slipping away from him as this fucking disease chips away at each nerve ending. He is reduced to writing his words on paper; he needs to excuse himself from the table as he has to clear the food from his cheeks with his finger; the disease makes him laugh and cry uncontrollably and often at the exact same time; his sense of balance is compromised; he cannot cough efficiently and his swallow muscles are quickly becoming paralyzed.
When he goes, I will miss him. I will weep for him. I will find constant reminders in my day to day life of him. I will celebrate his life and mourn his death. But, as when anyone dies, there is no “other side” to look forward to. My dad’s soul will not rise into the clouds or sink into the ground. When he is gone, he is gone except for his memory. I do not look forward to or think about a day when I will join him. I only look forward to the day he is free from this unbearable suffering. The day after he dies, I will leave up to nature.
My opinion until I change it. Thank you for allowing me to express it.
