You will often hear people of faith say what a sad life we atheists must lead. To live with knowledge that after this what awaits us is eternal nothingness; but how is a believer’s life any better? He goes through life, all its struggles, its heartbreaks and its joys knowing that they mean nothing. That this is all a test. A joke that a Supreme Being has conjured up for their amusement. I believe in the possibility of God and we all know you cannot ever fully disprove it or otherwise. What I need to believe more is that all of this is not just a test. That this life has some meaning. That all this is real and people’s actions here are something more than just technicalities they will be judged on.
That the feelings I felt when I saw her the first time are real. That the deep, profound love I bear her is real. That this is all not just a lie. That the tragedy of losing her is real. And this agonizing pain in my heart is real. I can live with it no other way. I rather believe I have lost her forever than to believe it all was just part of a big farce.
She would tell me, “I’d fallen for you a long time ago, had you not been an atheist.” I would smile and shrug it off. How beautiful is the feeling of being in love. You just know you’re heading for a wreck and you go on with it, with full knowledge and you love every minute of it. And when it ends, you ask yourself, “Why did I knowingly hurt myself?” You curse yourself for being stupid and immature but deep, deep down inside some corner of your heart where you never lie to yourself you know, you know that you will do it a thousand times over.
“I pray for you.” She would often say that. More than she said anything. More than she said, “I love you.” And sometimes it saddens me. And sometimes, I hope against hope there is a God, who heard every prayer that ever left her lips, every prayer that ever echoed in her heart. That all what she believed was not a lie. That she finally got her eternal bliss, her paradise. I can think of no one who deserves it more than her.
When she was dying she was in a lot of pain. Towards the end they would keep her heavily drugged and it would make her lucid. And sometimes she would hallucinate, sometimes she would say she can see God. She would tell me that all this suffering was a test and that God would make everything all right. That God was merciful and compassionate.
Everything will be alright. That was easy for her to believe. What kind of a God would put such a gentle soul in such agony? What kind of God would devise such horrific ordeals for such beautiful people, people that love Him? That devote each of their waking moments to Him. How can a God like that live with Himself?
Yet, I hope against hope there is a God. I hope there is another life after this for her. That she can finally have all the things she ever wanted. Her life was too short. Good people deserve more. They deserve not to go out like that. And if there is a God, He’d have to beg my forgiveness for what He did to her.
It’s amazing how she had such a positive outlook at life from the very day I met her. “Trust in God.” She would often tell me. “God has a plan for us.” Such clichés. Yet she believed them with all her heart and soul, and she believed that nothing bad would befall her because of her faith. When she was diagnosed with terminal cancer it did nothing to tarnish her believe. If anything, it reaffirmed it. Now she believed that this was just God’s way of testing her. That she must not let her faith waver and be strong. And by God, strong she was, strong she was.
And as I sit here I bow down before God. Throwing away all my pride and I beg for forgiveness. I ask God to instill in me faith, the kind of faith she had. To be my shepherd and guide me. I beg and I plead for forgiveness, for every sin I have ever committed, for all my years of faithlessness. All my years in darkness.
I pray with all my heart. To see her again. To hold her against me and feel her heat. To hold her so close that I feel her breathe on me, that I can hear her heart beat, that I can smell her hair. To once again see her smile, to once again kiss her lips. Please Lord, I beg and I plead.