I don’t believe in a god but...

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I really miss people in my life that are now gone. Although I didn’t come from a strict religious upbringing, I was fed a daily dose of a watered down version of an all loving and all encompassing god. The constant message was that death wasn’t the end. My father for many years was a closet atheist and said nothing. Anyway as a child I was so comfortable with my delusions, so much so that for a while I comfortably accepted death. It wasn’t until I was much older I began to experience a sort of cognitive dissonance. A sobering thought and fact that death was complete and final. I always thought I could learn to accept this on an emotional level but I still feel a great sense of loss. I experienced loss before but only up until recently nothing as painful as the loss of people that were the closest to me. Although I never cried at their funerals and even opted out of one, the feelings later became overwhelming.

I hardly ever open up about these feelings to anyone. If I do, I get some well meaning people that want to change me. Some of them will recite from their holy scriptures or tell me to just accept their version of god into my heart. It’s also hard talking to some of my atheist friends as they can be rather cynical or pretend to be. I almost feel alienated with these thoughts.

Not sure where I’m going with this except I miss them very much and I am pretty sure I’m going to lose my father to cancer. He’s been fighting this for a while and because it’s microscopic, we are waiting to see the results and if it has spread. It’s hard to see my dad who used to be both a constant alcoholic but who was otherwise physically active. He’s been sober now for 15 years and I guess for a long time I hated him before I saw the changes in his behavior. I also worry about my mom. She almost a fatal heart attack and doesn’t take very good care of herself.

This has been on my mind a lot lately. I feel like I’m really having to learn to "grow up" and be alone for the first time in my life.

I apologize if this comes off rambling. It’s hard for me to properly articulate my thoughts.

Last edited by MissConstrue on 29 Jan 2018, 11:58 am, edited 4 times in total.

I understand how you feel, I believe.

If I really missed someone after they have "gone," I would want to communicate with them as well. I would want to find a way, even if I'm not religious.

You came across quite coherent, and not rambling.

I don't know why: but I rarely "miss" people.

I like people, I like their company. But it is rare that I "miss" someone.

In life, it’s different. I feel real guilty for not seeing them as often as I should have. Like with my grandmother, I rarely payed visits because we were so different and I just am not the sort of person who keeps in contact. She always told me to please come back soon. In fact that was her last message before she passed away. I haven’t gotten over the guilt. I felt like she put her church above us as a family but then when she could no longer volunteer at the temple or go to church, it seemed as if she was finally opening up and being the kind of grandmother I could actually talk to. I also feel guilty for not keeping in contact with other people. It seems like as much as I want to be close, I can’t seem to be. There are those rare moments but then I prefer to be left alone. I just miss the occasional hellos and how are you and the talks. It’s hard for me to connect well with anyone unless they accept my flaws and I trust them to a level that I could not with most people. Maybe it’s another reason for these intense feelings of loss.

It's for these very reasons I avoid people. They can be too judgmental for my tastes.

I know what you mean here, too.

I had a grandmother whom I didn't see enough. I used to ask her for money as a kid, without having the consideration to go see her.

I visited her at the hospital three days before she passed away. She seemed like she was going to be around a lot longer at that time, so I thought I would visit her the next weekend.

But she passed away either one or two days after I visited her.

Miss Construe, You are a precious young lady and the guilt that you carry is false, wrong, self destructive. No matter how you look at it, it makes you feel bad. You have no reason to carry such self imposed guilt. Living life itself on a daily basis, trying to fit into a world where you don't itself deserves a gold medal. In this world where we are from the wrong planet, we must first be kind to ourselves. Give ourselves the understanding we dream of getting from others. We must love ourselves first.

As for your losses, I am sorry and live with my parents as memories for 21 years. Mom died first of a stroke in March. Dad was 88 years old, lived in a convalescent home & required a wheel chair. Sister and I brought him to my home for his final months. It was a very special time that proved to me, there is more to this life and we know. Dad was Catholic and had last rights 8 times. He would look like he would die and not. He once said Granee (my mom) was knocking at the door. (Granees died 7 months earlier) Me: What do you want me to do? Dad: blow her off, I'm done with her.
Granee didn't leave and one day my wife came home from work and sat in the chair to talk with Dad. Dad: Your in trouble now. Wife: Why? Dad: You sat on her. Wife: Who? Dad: Granee. That's about the time an hour-glass fell off the shelf, two days in a row. I set up a time lapse camera and recorded the hour-glass move itself to the edge and fall off the shelf. UN-believable I know. Two hours before Dad passed, a copper mouth horn fell from a lower shelf to the ground. That happened on Saturday. On Tuesday a 6" glass that was on the dresser in the bedroom was found on the floor. That ended the moving objects and all that are left of Mom and Dad are memories.

Believe me when I say, I looked for every and any explanation I could find for the moving hour-glasses. None was ever found. The furniture and shelves remained in the same place for another 13 years and nothing else ever moved.

Conclusion: There is more to our lives than we know.