There are moments in life that make me want to write; not because I necessarily have anything to say, but because it helps me understand my own thoughts.
I avoid the topic of death because I have not had many experiences with it. While some may consider me lucky, about a year ago I realized just how unprepared I am to deal with it. In this past year, I have questioned the concept of death in my own terms. Some may turn to religion to understand it, or at least to feel better. But I have no religion and I do not pray to any god for answers. Why? Because I am agnostic. That means that I am neither a theist nor an atheist; I do not believe that that we can prove or disprove the “divine”. I first chose this label and method (to me, it is not a belief) because I didn’t want to participate in an organized religion. I recognize that religion can be powerful, and that in itself can be both beautiful and destructive; it can bring people together and create a sense of hope, but it can also harm and destroy lives. As an agnostic, I am an observer of both the religious and the atheist, and decide (hopefully without bias) what is right and what is wrong on my own.
When I first decided that I did not want to participate in religion, I thought that my only other option was atheism. I welcomed this thought because I knew that atheists base their beliefs in science and fact, and that sounds awesome to me. But then I realized that I was not ready to make that jump, I felt that I was going from one extreme to the other, and that just did not feel right. So I discovered that with agnosticism I had the best of two worlds. This decision has been hard to deal with at time, because so often I find that I am sure there is absolutely no higher power, no god or supernatural being, just us in this universe. In that sense, I am atheist because I will never believe there is a god, and I believe we should put our trust in science over anything we cannot see. So why am I telling you I am agnostic? It’s how I hold on to hope. Not necessarily hope that there is a god, I don’t see how we would benefit from that. But hope for something that I do not know nor have time or words to fully explain.
Now, I am sure that many of you (both religious and atheist) will think “MAKE UP YOUR (GODDAMN) MIND!”. Well, rest assured that I think that on a daily basis. I tell myself that I am a fake, I cannot possibly believe with my whole heart and mind that there is no god if I still hold hope that there is something out there. Most days I find that I am an atheist who chooses to be undecided. All I know is that I will never go back to religion and in believing there is a god; I only know that I will never know whether there is one.
So why am I saying this?
Agnosticism doesn’t tell me what happens after death. Religions give us the comfort of believing that there is a heaven or paradise after this life on earth, and atheism tells us that there is absolutely nothing – we are worm food and nothing else. When I was younger and believed in a higher power, I was always uncomfortable with the idea of heaven and hell. I could not bring myself to actually believe that while my body stayed underground, my “soul” would go to a better place. That is very odd to me. So, as an agnostic I have always agreed with atheists, that there is nothing once we die. While this may be scary for a lot of people, I was never scared with the idea of dying; if anything, it sounded more peaceful to me.
That, however, does not mean that dealing with someone else’s death is easier. When I was five years old, my maternal grandfather (my Abo) passed away. Now I remember parts of the months leading up to his death (he had been diagnosed with terminal cancer), and the moment that I found out. I didn’t cry, I didn’t understand why mother cried and why my dad so slowly explained to us what death meant. I didn’t cry until I about about eight years old, and for whatever reason it all of a sudden hit me while I was showering. It had finally hit me that death meant forever, death meant never getting to hug him again. My mom comforted me with the idea that Abo was watching over me, that he was with me as an angel. It was around that age that my sister and I started going to church and were baptized. I guess I was looking for comfort that I would see Abo again.
Yesterday, my paternal grandmother (my abuela) passed away somewhat unexpectedly. As some of you many already know, she had Alzheimer’s. She was a woman who had the very unfortunate experience of losing a child, and although she was strong, it was evident that she had suffered. I cannot say much else without becoming upset, but I know that she loved us in her own way, even if at times I did not understand. In the 11 years that we have been away, dementia took over her brain and changed the woman we knew. I was lucky to be able to visit this past December. Although, I have not spoken much about it, seeing her and then leaving was one of the hardest things I have done. It broke my heart to know that I may never have another chance to hug her again.
My mom keeps saying that now Abuela is in peace, she is no longer suffering. This is not as comforting as when I was 8 years old, because although I am glad that she is no longer in pain, I do not believe she is in a better place. To me, she is gone from this earth and I will really never hug or kiss her again.
I wish I could believe that she has gone to a heaven, that along with Abo she is watching over me. I wish that I believed that I will see her when I die. I am not sure if that would make this grief any better, but it is the only time since I became agnostic that I have really wished to know there is something bigger than us.
I am not writing this to find reassurance from either side; so please do not tell me that god will give me hope or that death means life is final. There is no particular reason as to why I write this, but I do hope many of you understand how I am dealing with the pain that my abuela’s death has caused me. In reality, I do not think that believing in a god or not will make this any easier, or even that time makes the pain go away. Only that death is difficult no matter what we believe in and that there is only comfort in knowing the suffering ends.
Nadia's Paper Town 