Chapter 14: Facing Tragedy Without God

How I dealt with my friend's death without believing in God

 

 

Yesterday I received a package in the mail. I opened the yellow envelope, unwrapped the tissue paper and held a small stuffed platypus in my hand. Tears stung my eyes as the memories came rushing back.

 

This was the platypus my friend Shirley won at the county fair when we went together. That was about three years ago, back when I was still in high school. Back when Shirley was still living here… before she moved back home… before she got leukemia and died. I had nothing to remember her by-not even the bulletin from her funeral since it was thousands of miles away and I was late in hearing that she died.

 

Not getting to say good bye really tore me up. So much had happened to both of us in the time span we had been apart. I wanted her to know that I’m okay now. That I don’t feel out of control anymore. I’m not scared of God like I use to be when she knew me. I’m not a believer anymore, but that it’s okay because I have so much peace now- I’m finally happy. But I never told her that because we lost contact with each other, and when I tried to contact her during her illness, I couldn’t get a hold of her.

 

It’s probably for the best. She would be sad to hear that I left the faith, even though I am so much happier now. I wouldn’t have wanted her to be sad. Life was a struggle for her anyway without giving her something else to worry about. Having spent most of her life as an alcoholic and a drug addict, she had a lot of regrets that really bothered her. Even though I met her after she quit using, she still described herself as an addict. She explained that an addict is still an addict even when he or she stops the behavior. Hence the saying,” Once an alcoholic, always and alcoholic.” I just thought of her as my friend. I was proud of her, because after she did became clean and sober, she became a substance abuse counselor. I saw her help a lot of people.

 

I finally called her mom on the phone last week and we talked for half an hour about Shirley. She filled in the gaps for me about how her last two years were spent. She offered to send me one of Shirley’s stuffed animals since she had such a collection and her family didn’t know what to do with all of them. I asked that she send the platypus she won while we were at the fair together, and she said she would.

 

Along with the platypus (she named him Joshua), the envelope contained a hand-written card from her mom and the bulletin from Shirley’s funeral. Her strong faith was reflected in the memorial service. Everyone who knew Shirley knew about her love for God, so it was only appropriate that she have a Christian funeral. Her mom assured me over and over that Shirley is in heaven now with God- a much better place. In the past, that thought would have comforted me, but as my circumstances have changed, it doesn’t affect me the same way.

 

I don’t know what I believe about the afterlife. Certainly, if there is any justice in our universe, she is in a better place, finally getting to rest. If anyone deserved a break, she did. Her compassion extended to everyone in need around her. I wonder if I will ever see her again. It hurts to think that I’ll never again hear her northern dialect call me “sweetie.” I wonder if I’ll ever hear her laugh again. I think I’ll formulate my beliefs about life after death later. Right now, I’m just going to let myself grieve in her absence and assume that the place she is in right now is making her happy. I can’t bear to think anything else.

 

I used to cope with tragedy through prayer. Now it just seems silly to talk to thin air, so I don’t. I deal with my grief by writing about her. I try to remember things she told me, like “It’s just stuff.” I remember one time when I made her laugh so hard with a joke about therapists:

Q. How many therapists does it take to change a light bulb?

A. Just one. But it has to want to change!

 

I was so glad I could make her laugh.

I don’t know where Shirley is now, but if she can see me, I hope I’m not making her sad by leaving the faith. I hope she’s happy for me, because I’m free now. And that’s all either of us ever wanted-to be free.

 

 

Author's Note

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