Four Views of the Afterlife

Death is a topic that has always intrigued people. Many hope for or fear an afterlife, others believe it is the end of body, personality, and soul. My friend, Arlan, and I once had a long discussion about this, each of us holding a different perspective. He believes, sensibly I think, that death can only be the end, that no part of him will survive. I agree with him—-on an intellectual level. However, I understand how people are unable to fathom an end.

I told him of my experiences of Rene, my mother, and my father after each of their deaths. I'd always assumed that those experiences said something about me, certainly nothing about the afterlife. Arlan pointed out that those experiences say something about each of those people.

Photo by Rene's sister, Mona

Rene died at a time when I couldn't cope with one more loss. Surprisingly, her spirit seemed to linger with me, filling me with inexplicable laughter whenever I felt overwhelmed by her absence. She stayed with me for nine months, until the night I dreamed of unusual home where a woman was about to give birth. Rene had always been a source of laughter and joy, but this experience revealed her enduring presence in the living world.

At the moment of my mother’s death, I saw her spirit ascend in an instant to a cloud where she held a harp and everything difficult about her had fallen away. My mother spent years hiding from the world; that was the afterlife she would have wanted.

While I had always known that Rene was a bringer of laughter, I had not recognized, at least not consciously, that my father had always been deeply afraid of everything, including death. After he died, I repeatedly saw him wandering alone in a barren landscape: lost, frustrated, afraid, and crying.

And then there was Butterfly (פַּרְפַּר), my beloved cat. My experiences of him after his passing were of an entirely different caliber: I knew they were real. After he passed away, his spirit visited me one night; he was as big as I am and he spooned himself against my back. Although he came to the house many other nights, on those occasions he focused entirely on reassuring his daughter, Nutmeg.

Might my experiences of those people have been shaped by the predominant and sometimes unexplored facets of their personalities? Were the things I saw actually windows into their souls or into my perceptions of them?

Whether my visions were true or not, they do suggest the complexity of human existence. There are so many mysteries that lie beyond our understanding; I’m not inclined to spend much time considering the possibility of an afterlife, but those experiences do prompt me to cherish the connections I have in this life.

Bright moments

Easy day because of a little help a friend had already offered me. Beautiful day because I'm in Eilat.
 
I was familiar with the bus stop and bus route to the doctor's today because Arlan had volunteered to come with me to that office the first time I had an appointment. (Bus 6 in front of the sefriyah.)

Today, I didn't know the bus schedule, but luckily arrived just seconds before the bus, and I didn't have to stand in the sun for an hour. After I got on the bus, Arlan texted me with a reminder of which streets and neighborhoods I'd travel before getting to my stop all the way across town. It felt good to recognize places in the city; the information he has been giving me on our walks has sunk in!

The last time, Arlan and I had gone to the mall from the doctor's office, so today I had to ask him which bus to take back home and where to catch it. I waited perhaps 60 seconds before it arrived. (Yay!) I could have gotten off on Yerushalayim HaShleima near WIZO, but stayed on much longer. The bus seemed to meander away from where I was headed, but eventually I recognized HaTivat HaNegev. The walk back to my apartment was short and the weather wasn't too hot.

The therapist's appointment was a big disappointment, not the chance to talk that I'd been waiting and waiting for. But when I returned home, I discovered that my internet had fixed itself. Thank goodness!

Poppy?

The Love of Friends

During our Pagan Tea Time, Rhyd Wildermuth and I spoke about many things: music, wands, home, family, his studies with OBOD, books, Powells, and Ursula K. LeGuin.

In addition to being nice and interesting, Rhyd showed immense admiration for my boy cat.

At some point during our conversation, I asked him if he really remembered love. He thought about it and said, if I recall correctly, that he remembered what went with it, what his life was like then.

That's all that I recall about romantic relationships, too. It seems to me that friendship is a stronger bond even though it comes without responsibility or expectations. For some reason, the strongest friendships seem to be between people who are very different.

And friendship transcends death. You can accept being separated if you know that you loved and were loved without reservation. You don’t have to cling to promises of another world or reincarnation, because the memory of a friend's love strengthens your soul. 

 

Sister of My Heart

Rene Christina Lovall

November 18, 1954 to November 22, 2004

We all loved you.

And your memory still brings us joy.