I watched my husband die on the floor of my bedroom when he was only 36, and after doing CPR on him for the 10 minutes it took the ambulance to come and having them work on him and tell me that there is nothing they could do and that he was dead, I was shattered. I had been living with this man for 11 years and one week exactly. My entire adult life was spent with this man as my partner, lover, and though it sounds cliché, my best friend. I am only 29 years old. It has been less than a month since my life changed forever. In the first 2 weeks, which felt like years and seconds at the same time, I wished that I could believe in a heaven where Ken will be waiting for me and can still see me and in a way, be with me….But I know in my heart that this is not true. I know that him dying on the floor in front of me after being sick and emasculated for 6 months by congestive heart failure, crying and telling me he was sorry that I had to take care of him at least once a week, needing my assistance for the most basic things that those who are not sick take for granted…none of that was part of a god’s plan. It is just the shitty part of life. I find no comfort in people’s reply that “he is in a better place” and that they “will pray for my comfort” and other religious statements. I know that they aren’t doing it to hurt me, but it does hurt. I know that this is not true. My husband is dead, and I have the ashes of his body in a container in my bedroom and some in a necklace around my neck; not in heaven, not in hell.
I never grew up with a real religion in my formative years. My mother has been atheist as long as I have been alive, and my father was always questing for the right religion that would give his life meaning. He was a Buddhist until I was 9 years old. I used to go to Buddhist temple with my father at a small child, more to get a chance to spend time with my dad and feel closer to him than anything else. I still remember those nice old men and women with the shaved heads who used to give me sweets because I reminded them of their grandchildren. I remember at the age of 5 debating with my dad… who honestly was probably stoned at the time… about if this life is real or a dream, where we come from and the size of space. Then he met my stepmother who would not date him until he converted to Christianity. He began attending the local Lutheran church, the same church that I attended for preschool. My parents sent me there because it was a good school, and my best friend at the time was also attending. I remember coming home in spring and when my mother asked me what I had learned in school, after coloring and adding a rock attached by a brass brad (so it moved) to a picture of Jesus’ tomb I replied, “Looking for baby Jesus under a rock.” I had just learned about baby Jesus that past December. Then my parents divorced and my mother abandoned me and my younger sister 3 days before my 10th birthday and we had to start attending church because of my father and my soon to be stepmom. She took us to her church, a “non denominational” born again church where they would wave flags with religious saying and images, and raise their hands up in the air during the singing and preaching. They had a kid’s church department called Super church where they would have us memorize the books of the bible in order, and then they had a man come in and thump us on the forehead in front of the congregation. Then they taught us to speak in tongues… who knew that the power of the Holy Spirit moving you to speak babble was taught in the course of 10 minutes? I actually never bought into any of this… but after having your mother abandon you because you were an inconvenience to her suddenly single lifestyle puts you in a vulnerable place, especially when you have a tyrannical stepmother running your life, and your father’s. I wished there was a God, but I felt silly and empty when I would try to pray. I began to skip church… I still had to attend, but I would hang out in the bathroom or wander the halls of the church during the kid’s service. My stepmom would stop going to church once the folks there started questioning her about how we were treated. She was abusive, cruel, and a pathological liar. Once someone caught on to her and her schemes, we would move, or change churches. These people knew what was going on, but did nothing. Why? I guess it wasn’t in God’s Plan for me to not be abused, and humiliated from the ages of 10 to 16. Once I reached 16 I embraced my dark side, and became fascinated with evil, and the concepts behind it. I read books about serial killers and torture; Satanism (which I thought was a cop out, and hokey); and finally realized and settled on being agnostic. I had always been agnostic; I knew that the Christian idea of a God wasn’t true... I have now decided that I am not agnostic, I am actually atheist. I chose the title of agnostic because I didn’t know if there was a God. But now I know that I don’t believe in a God, so I am actually atheist. Also saying you are Atheist makes more of a statement for the same belief for me.
I find that my atheism has actually helped me accept my husband’s death. Since there is no after life, I have had to confront his death head on, no cushion of heaven or anything to delude me from the reality that the remainder of my one and only life here on earth will be forever different. I owe it to myself not to deprive myself of living this life to the fullest, the life that my husband did not get to live. Don’t get me wrong, I am not “over him.” I will still cry and mourn him for the rest of my life, he was good to me, and forgiving and really did love me. I haven’t had the kind of connection with him with anyone else. I believe that my life is better for having known him, and although it hurts to have lost him, I would rather have those years with him than never have known him. I don’t picture myself having the children we planned on having, and I don’t see myself getting married again, dating, maybe in the future. Ken always said that he wanted me to be happy, and I know that he gave me his blessing if I do eventually find someone that makes me happy and treats me right. I can’t say what the future will hold, but I do know that if I play my cards right I can have another 50 years to continue to promote my husband’s art and put on the shows that he didn’t get to. If I can do that, I can truly give him an everlasting life.
