I’d like to believe that there comes a time in life where we all tend to question things. What is our purpose? Is there a God? Why are we here? I’m saying, “I’d like to believe that” because that time came for me a few years ago. I hope I’m not the only one who thinks about those things, in fact, I’m absolutely certain that I’m not, but in a way I still feel guilty for not having stronger faith.
The reason for my guilt: The first time I had seriously prayed to God in almost 13 years, my prayer was answered immediately.
Now, I know I was praying for the inevitable, and it was only a matter of time before it would have happened eventually, but I struggle to believe that this was simply a coincidence.
I think back to that time 13 years ago where I prayed so intensely and with so much emotion. My prayer was answer then as well. Within the hour. Was it God who answered my prayer? Was it the “universe?” Was it a combination of both? No one actually knows the answers to those questions, even though some might say that they do. Therefore, I do actually feel okay with knowing that someone, some force, is there when I truly am in need. I have finally come to terms with the fact that I don’t have to know the exact origin of this support system. I can now finally put all this questioning that I’ve been doing to rest.
My grandfather passed away this morning. He was suffering from dementia for quite some time now, and he had become quite a difficult person to handle due to his physical strength and the loss of his mind. He was ignorant to the severity of his situation, and the ones who truly suffered were my mom and my grandma. I grieve for them the most. I have always been pretty close with the both of them even though I’ve been away for quite some time, and it pained me to see them not being able to live to their fullest potential because of the effects from this horrible disease.
I was never too close with my grandfather, and I was actually a little afraid of him, even well into my college years. I learned about some things he had done throughout his life, and it made me dislike him. He was never the most affectionate grandfather, and he never said he loved me. I luckily have another grandfather who does all of those things and more, so the difference has always been very apparent to me. A part of me does not want to think about all the negativity I feel towards him—especially right after his passing –but the other part of me knows that isn’t possible.
The grief that I’m currently feeling is for my mom. I know that regardless of who he was or the things he’s done, he was her father, and it can’t be easy losing your father. I hate seeing the people I love in pain, and death is never an easy thing for the living to handle. I only hope that now my family will be able to find peace and—most importantly –find happiness once again in their lives. I want my mom and my grandma to start living their lives to the fullest, and only do things that give them joy. Whenever someone dies, the brevity of life is immediately brought to our attention. There is no time to waste being unhappy.
So, with my newfound—or rediscovered –sense of hope and knowledge that there is a greater force out there taking care of us, I will continue on with a little more clarity in my life. I can take comfort in knowing that my grandfather brought me back to my faith, and I feel thankful for that. I sincerely hope that his spirit finds peace.