We all missed having you. I knew there were reasons; some better than others as to why you didn’t attend much, but what was it that made you stop going altogether?”
Yes, she did know about how I felt. The older I got the more willing I was to let them know exactly how I felt.
“ I just couldn’t keep coming here any longer. How could I sit here and listen to something I didn’t believe?”
I often wondered which was better. To just be honest with one’s self and accept the decisions you make or live in ignorance and false bliss. Maybe in the past I tried to deny what I knew was the truth for the sake of mine own or someone else’s feelings, but I soon realized it just wasn’t worth it.
“ What caused you to stop believing? Was it Jonathan?”
“ No, Jonathan had nothing to do with it. I discovered on my own long before I found out the real reason Jonathan never came to church with us.”
It was true in a sense. I did end up returning to church when I was fifteen and by then Jonathan had told me everything about his parent’s beliefs and that he agreed with them. I thought that there was something there I missed or did not fully understand. With the starting of high school and feeling myself being drawn further and further away from people, they presented a sense of belonging, but my initial thoughts and feelings were correct, it was nothing but an illusion.
“ Then what was it, Timothy? Something must have happened to cause you to turn away from you faith.”
“ My faith…? What exactly should I have faith in? A God who claims he is our father, but looks down on us and judges us? Oh wait, I forgot, he loves every single one of his children. So tell me this... if you could save your children from suffering and death, wouldn’t you?”
It was more than that, much more. My mother could see that as well. Her hands held the hymn book tightly as if it was giving her strength.
“ God has a plan for everyone. Neither the path nor the reason is always clear. The gift of life cannot be given without death being attached. Something long before your father's death caused you to no longer believe in his plan.”
“ His plan…? So it was God's plan for dad to be killed by a drunk driver, to cause our family to suffer? That doesn't sound like a plan to me, it sounds like the shit life feeds us sometimes. Don't you get it? There is no God, there’s just us! We have to take care of each other and do whatever we can to survive. Yes, I figured that out a long time ago and it rings true especially now.”
I could not understand why my mother was discussing all that with me right after the funeral. All I could assume was that she needed to, to be in her church holding on to her faith even though it had failed her. What did she want me to understand, did she think her words even on that day would have changed anything. With all I said she just looked at me, somber, taking it all in.
“ I’ve heard Jonathan say similar.”
“ This isn’t about him!” I yelled.
While I knew I was getting upset I did not realize how much so until that moment. My hands hurt. Looking down I did not notice I had balled my hands into a fist so tight that my nails dug into the skin causing it to bleed. Closing my eyes I tried to calm myself, taking a deep breath I sat down on the steps leading up to the stage.
My mother, even on the day we buried my father, her husband, was still worried about my well-being, my feelings. She knew what had happened between Jonathan and I, even in grief and all the pain she was in, she was willing to listen.
Again she was right, Jonathan had said similar when his mother died of a heart attack at age thirty- six. The doctors gave an explanation, but it was one of the nurses who set him off. I was there when she told him that his mother was in heaven and it was God’s plan to call her home. The look on his face, I thought he would kill her where she stood.
Where my mother was wrong was
Yes, she did know about how I felt. The older I got the more willing I was to let them know exactly how I felt.
“ I just couldn’t keep coming here any longer. How could I sit here and listen to something I didn’t believe?”
I often wondered which was better. To just be honest with one’s self and accept the decisions you make or live in ignorance and false bliss. Maybe in the past I tried to deny what I knew was the truth for the sake of mine own or someone else’s feelings, but I soon realized it just wasn’t worth it.
“ What caused you to stop believing? Was it Jonathan?”
“ No, Jonathan had nothing to do with it. I discovered on my own long before I found out the real reason Jonathan never came to church with us.”
It was true in a sense. I did end up returning to church when I was fifteen and by then Jonathan had told me everything about his parent’s beliefs and that he agreed with them. I thought that there was something there I missed or did not fully understand. With the starting of high school and feeling myself being drawn further and further away from people, they presented a sense of belonging, but my initial thoughts and feelings were correct, it was nothing but an illusion.
“ Then what was it, Timothy? Something must have happened to cause you to turn away from you faith.”
“ My faith…? What exactly should I have faith in? A God who claims he is our father, but looks down on us and judges us? Oh wait, I forgot, he loves every single one of his children. So tell me this... if you could save your children from suffering and death, wouldn’t you?”
It was more than that, much more. My mother could see that as well. Her hands held the hymn book tightly as if it was giving her strength.
“ God has a plan for everyone. Neither the path nor the reason is always clear. The gift of life cannot be given without death being attached. Something long before your father's death caused you to no longer believe in his plan.”
“ His plan…? So it was God's plan for dad to be killed by a drunk driver, to cause our family to suffer? That doesn't sound like a plan to me, it sounds like the shit life feeds us sometimes. Don't you get it? There is no God, there’s just us! We have to take care of each other and do whatever we can to survive. Yes, I figured that out a long time ago and it rings true especially now.”
I could not understand why my mother was discussing all that with me right after the funeral. All I could assume was that she needed to, to be in her church holding on to her faith even though it had failed her. What did she want me to understand, did she think her words even on that day would have changed anything. With all I said she just looked at me, somber, taking it all in.
“ I’ve heard Jonathan say similar.”
“ This isn’t about him!” I yelled.
While I knew I was getting upset I did not realize how much so until that moment. My hands hurt. Looking down I did not notice I had balled my hands into a fist so tight that my nails dug into the skin causing it to bleed. Closing my eyes I tried to calm myself, taking a deep breath I sat down on the steps leading up to the stage.
My mother, even on the day we buried my father, her husband, was still worried about my well-being, my feelings. She knew what had happened between Jonathan and I, even in grief and all the pain she was in, she was willing to listen.
Again she was right, Jonathan had said similar when his mother died of a heart attack at age thirty- six. The doctors gave an explanation, but it was one of the nurses who set him off. I was there when she told him that his mother was in heaven and it was God’s plan to call her home. The look on his face, I thought he would kill her where she stood.
Where my mother was wrong was
Similar Books
