When someone dies, atheism is pretty damn depressing.
My grandfather passed away yesterday.
I get it. Our older relatives die. It's a part of life. We weren't shocked. We weren't unprepared. My family has been expecting this for a while. Alzheimer's Disease is the most brutal thing to happen to someone. I almost wish he was taken from us suddenly. I wouldn't wish this on someone I hated.
It just hurts so much.
I have a belief that everyone has at least one person in their life that is....their 'person'. Someone with whom they can relate, talk to, find comfort in, etc. My grandfather was all of that and more for me.
After my parents divorced, my mom moved us to Kentucky to live with our grandparents so she could go back to school. I spent three years living at my grandparents home. Grades 1-3. My grandfather became my fill-in dad. He helped me with my homework, he made sure we were fed, I went everywhere with him, he taught us all important life lessons.
As much as I love and respect my father, my grandfather was the main male influence I had for a pretty important time in my life. He didn't replace my father; just stepped in when needed. I hate to say it but, when dad left, granddaddy stepped in. And I needed that.
My grandfather would sing Willie Nelson's 'On the Road Again' whenever we would go anywhere. My sisters and my cousins all knew he did this because he did it with all of us. Except, I was usually the one going with him wherever he had to go. We would go to the hardware store, grocery, post office, bank.... I even went to his barber shop several times. Everywhere my sisters thought were boring I loved every second of.
Because I got to be with him.
My mom, aunts, grandmother, sisters, and cousins are all asking how I'm handling this. Mostly because my grandmother always said that I was extra special to my grandfather. I was able to go and visit them in early January. My grandmother told me how, when the disease was first starting to affect him, my grandfather kept saying how he couldn't forget me. He just could not forget me.
Except he did.
The last thing he said to me when I saw him in January was that he loved me. He was repeating it since I said it first but I'm always going to believe that he meant it. (fucking Alzheimer's turned my grandfather into a damn parrot)
So, this week I'm packing up and heading back to Kentucky for his funeral. I'll see my sisters and mom. I'll see my grandmother and all my cousins. Aunts. Uncles. My grandfather's friends. Old church friends. People who remember me but I won't remember them. People who will get me confused for one of my sisters.
And they will ALL tell me about how I'll get to see him again in heaven.
This is where atheism is the most brutal. I will never see him again. I'll never again hear him call me 'Ru Ru'. I'll never again hear him sing 'On the road again..." He won't ever again peer at me through his rounded hands like he was seeing me through a telescope. I know I won't. I wish an afterlife was real. I wish I had that comfort in my life. I wish I could push all this pain aside and focus on being with him again.
I can't and I hate myself for not believing.
But, I'll have to suck it up and smile and nod at everyone for the next few days. I can't lose my cool about god and heaven while I'm there. It won't matter to anyone there that I'm an atheist. The only comfort I'll need is to know that my grandfather is with Jesus in heaven and I'll be there with him one day.
Fuck them and their fucking religion. There is no god. God didn't cause my grandfather's Alzheimer's nor did he end it. I'm not angry at god. I can't be. There is no god to be mad at. I'm angry at the shitty situation. I'm angry at the fucking asshats who stop valuable research based on religious beliefs.
He didn't deserve to lose his strength. His ability to move, use the bathroom, be independent. He didn't deserve to slowly waste away to nothing because of fucking disease. He didn't deserve to lose his mind.
Fuck everything. #fuckalzheimers
