It's Sunday morning, and I'm just sitting here. My father is gone. My doctrine / religious philosophy has taught me that unless a man is "saved", he will not go to Heaven. My father was many things, but he was never a "saved" man. It's a long story, involving a religion / cult called Jehovah's Witnesses, but he was turned from God.
Was that HIS fault? Really? Will he spend an eternity in Hell because God, in all his power, let my father drift from Him? Not only does my sect of Christianity say so, it's all over The Book. Look it up.
So, I've used my "free will". I refuse to sing praises to a god that sends men like my father to Hell. Good men. All kinds of people that God had decided to let slip past Him. Is Heaven not big enough? Is God not powerful enough? Does he not love all his children?
All I know is that I love my father. The father that God saw fit to ignore. And if my dad will spend an eternity in Hell, I will be there with him. Because I love him.
It is said that sometimes, children can teach their parents. I wonder if God can understand and appreciate my choice. If He can see what love looks like.
It is so quiet in our house right now. Ripples of anger and sadness erode at the edges of my soul. But mostly, I am numb. There's a hole in me. I haven't spoken to God since shortly after my last words to my father. There is so much that I want to say to one, and absolutely nothing to the other.
I should write, but there is no "there" there. Not a black, foreboding void, but a featureless vast expanse of nothing. If I make a sound, it doesn't reverberate, echo, or get drawn in. It floats aimlessly. To a place where no one hears it.
Because, we're born alone. We die alone. And despite the window dressing, between the two, we are alone.