When I found Mike, cold in the bed, there was a moment...a split second in time...when I thought I could get a re-do. Like a dress rehearsal. Like, ok God, I screwed up that last line, can we do this over again?
The other day, Gianna (age 7) made a comment about her Papa, and when I gently mentioned that it wouldn't happen, she said "Well, sometimes maybe God could send them back down." I think we've both watched way too many sappy Christmas Miracle Movies.
So...onto the God thing. I'm having a really hard time with this. I've talked online with other widows who say that God sustains them. Hey, whatever works. I'm not getting the warm fuzzies about the whole thing...you know...be good, sing God's praises when life throws you crap and reap your rewards in heaven. And that whole "streets paved with gold" thing? I don't think I care much. If that's what heaven is like, I'm indifferent.
What I do know is that none of us is getting out of here alive. We know that energy doesn't die...but it can change. I like to think of a universal one-ness, but then I struggle with the dirtbags of life...the real bottom of the barrel types.
I am lost in spirit...trying to find my way. I think one of my goals for this new year will be to go looking for it. I don't know what I believe anymore, but it could be interesting to find out.
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