Heaven: Part Two

   For the longest time, my own personal view of heaven was a place wherein I would be able to explore whatever reaches of the universe and galaxies I wished, almost instantaneously. I would be able to do this because, having died, I would then be unfettered by earthly bonds and restrictions. This seemed like a wonderful concept to muse on.

John Edward--famous medium

   At some point, though, I became intrigued by watching psychic mediums at work. Their perceived ability to communicate with the dead presented a whole new and different concept of "heaven" then the one I'd developed in my head.
   Suddenly I was presented with a view of the afterlife wherein the dear departed seemed as though they were only a breath away from their loved ones, almost hovering over them. Okay, I thought, if this is what it's really like then maybe that's not too bad of a concept. But I was also presented with a picture of a very busy, hustle-and-bustle kind of heaven where the spirits seem to be restless and eager to connect with their loved ones for a variety of reasons. More than one medium has described spirits as jostling other spirits out of the way, simply to get at their own earthly friends and family.

   This almost strikes me as "heaven, with an agenda" and not really what I had in mind for myself when I pass. The idea of being able to somehow re-connect with your loved ones and reassure them that all is well is fine but when I am in heaven I don't want to have to beat the crap out of the spirit beside me every time one of my family members encounters a medium.
   On top of everything else, who constitutes a "loved one" and will I only encounter "loved ones" in my afterlife? Or will I possibly run into people who hated my guts when we were both alive? Or will my heaven have a population of only one, once I get there?
   In the previous blog, I conjectured on my Dad running into both of his wives in the afterlife and what that would look like. My cousin Carol, after reading that blog, offered up the opinion that perhaps her dad, who has also passed, and my dad would simply go fishing together and leave the two ladies to talk! Hard not to latch onto that image!

   Perhaps heaven is that place where you simply continue to do all the things you loved the best when you were alive. But how soon would we become bored with that, as bizarre as this might sound? Sometimes the things we love the most are loved that way because they seem like islands in the midst of tedium. Part of the enjoyment of these things is in the anticipation of them. I wonder if there would be anticipation in heaven, or even a little pain, to make the pleasure more enjoyable, by contrast.
   I do wonder if my Dad is out there now, just waiting for an opportunity to send a message and hoping that I will have the ability to receive it. I wonder the same about my Mum and a variety of other people who are no longer with us. If they aren't, I don't have a problem with that. If they are exploring the vastness of the universe I really don't have a problem with that either. One of the other theories I have ( wonder where these theories come from...) is that there is not the same concept of time in heaven and that, once you're there, it seems as though we all get there at the same time, with no interminable waiting for your loved ones to arrive. Here on earth, though, it seems like years.
   So, here I sit, just in case, waiting for a message. Or not, if it is not to be, and that is more than okay, as well. At the very least, I feel watched over. Not in a judgemental, nor possibly even in a guiding way but simply in an interested and loving kind of manner. It just seems as if it should be this way.
  

Heaven

    As you can imagine, I have been thinking a lot lately about heaven and, more importantly, if there is one.
   The fact that it is also Good Friday today has prompted this consideration even further.
   Any time someone I know passes away I find myself wondering what exactly that person has now discovered and what kind of a journey they might currently be on.
    In an earlier blog, I mentioned that I am somewhat jealous of the dead. The reason for this is that I believe any truly important question you might have had is answered when you pass away. You find out whether there is a God or not. You discover if there is a Hell. You find out if there are aliens. You suddenly know where anything you might ever have lost went to (and still is!)
   If time travel is a possibility then you suddenly are aware of its mechanics. You find out whatever happened to Amelia Earhart and if there actually was a Jesus. All these questions and more get answered for you, in one fell swoop.
   Currently, my father is someone I envy. Today, as well, marks the 39th anniversary of my mother dying so I guess I envy her, too. This brings up another question--are my Mum and Dad together again? And how would my stepmother, who has also passed, fit into that equation?
   There are simply a mind-boggling number of questions I believe get answered when we pass.
   I do believe in an afterlife, not so much because I am deeply religious (far from it) but simply because the laws of physics seem to apply. One of those laws states that energy cannot be destroyed, only changed. Because we all are made of different kinds of energy and because this energy cannot be destroyed I think that we simply change when we pass. Moreover, I think we are all derived from that same incomprehensible burst of energy that occurred when the universe was formed and that's why we are all so interconnected. As the hippies put it, we are one with the universe!
   What I don't think, however, is that there is any kind of deity running the show.
   My Dad now knows what the story is and I am jealous, just a little. I'm also content to wait until it is my turn to find out. 
  
  
  
  

Relief

   I am still in the middle of lots of paper-worky (my new favourite word) kinds of things to do with tidying up the details of my Dad's passing. As time has progressed, things have become steadily less stressful and time-consuming. This has given me a little more time and headspace to reflect on some of the things his passing has meant.

   I am relieved.

Karen, thank you...

   This feeling of relief has been gradually growing in me, almost imperceptibly. It occasionally stops me dead in my tracks, during unoccupied moments. My new-found sense of relief stems from no longer having to worry about my father. I no  longer need to worry if he's safe, I no longer need worry about his finances, there's no need to worry about a slow decline with Alzheimer's and having to find a nursing home.
   It had not occurred to me before just how much mental and emotional energy I was allotting my Dad, subconsciously. Whenever a worry or concern popped up consciously I always managed to tuck it away somewhere. Anything I might need to worry about was years away and so easy to avoid thinking about it now. At least knowingly thinking about it...
   Above all else, I guess, was the fear that he would die. Realistically, I knew the man was almost 86 and simply would not live forever and that, at some point, I would be faced with dealing with this eventuality. I did have some doubts as to my ability to do this. Three month ago, however, if you'd told me my Dad would live for another ten years I would have said that this was probably not a bad estimate. And that was about as soon as I would need to deal with his passing, I thought.

   This estimate, of course, was incorrect and we all found ourselves dealing with Dad's death long before I think most of us thought we might have to. I don't think this is terribly uncommon in families, I think quite often death occurs at times when some families are the least prepared for it. Each time this happens the family wonders how it possibly will be able to handle it and move on. But then they do, and they get through it somehow, more or less intact.
   My Dad's death kind of snuck up on us. It was not preceded by any lengthy illness and was not something we had been preparing or planning for. There was only about a two-week period when it seemed as though death was the most likely outcome for him and this was the time we were given. It was just about time enough for some good-byes and a little resolution.
   So, apart from the afore-mentioned paper-worky kinds of things still needing to be dealt with, many of the reasons I might have had for subconscious anxiety over my Dad have been resolved. The best part is, I think they have been resolved to his satisfaction. Ostensibly right to the end he was fully in charge of his own life. His legacy will be hard to live up to in terms of the love, admiration and respect his family, friends and colleagues had for him. That is as much as many of us would likely ask for at the ends of our lives.
   So I do feel relief. It is not the jumping-up-and-down-for-joy kind of relief, as you might expect. It is certainly a very quiet and self-contained kind of feeling. I find myself wondering whether my Dad is now experiencing some kind of relief of his own, wherever he may be. I almost know that he is.
   Me? I feel just a little lighter...