If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went.
[When asked what he wants for his tombstone epitaph]
Since I’m an atheist, and have no belief whatsoever in life after death, I couldn’t care less — it’s not like it’ll have any impact on me, since by definition I will be completely extinguished. I guess if someone twisted my arm and forced me to provide an epitaph, it would be ‘Don’t forget.’ Sound advice…
One life; a little gleam of Time between two Eternities; no second chance to us for evermore!
Death. I wish the word could be removed from the vocabulary and from the dictionary. It simply does not exist, except in the human mind that was taught that it does exist. People think they are a body and they come to believe that when the body dies, everything they are will die too. It’s not true. The soul lives on. The soul of consciousness exists not only in the body but outside of the body too. We are all souls that cannot be contained or limited by time or space or the physical body. For souls there is no death.
Death would be an extremely bad thing like most of us paint it, if being dead were painful.
When I die, I wonder what will happen to me. Is there some place like heaven, and will I be able to meet you there someday? I don’t know. There’s no way to know. No one knows what comes after death. But at the very least, we won’t be able to talk until then.
There’s a wide, deep and fast running river between the living and the dead. Once you cross that river, no matter what happens, you’re never coming back. It’s a one way trip.
What is needed is not that a religion be true, meaning that what it claims exist beyond the ink it is written with in a holy book. That is hard to prove. What is important is that a religion be a good system to help us mere mortal deal with our short and troubled life in the universe. Whether what we hope for in the afterlife materializes or not is not important, what is important is that we believe it will materialize and that gives us hope.
And I don’t believe you dead. How can you be dead if I still feel you? Maybe, like God, you changed into something different that I’ll have to speak to in a different way, but you not dead to me Nettie. And never will you be.
Father never went into depth about what happened if I woke up, unable to remember how I’d died, but most definitely in the hands of those not selected to have s’mores and sleepovers for all of eternity.
There are no signs of religion at all; no priest to hear my sins, no God to push open the pearly gates, nor a devil to welcome me with a pitchfork. All of this seems so meaningless.