I changed when my Dad died.

My hero. The man who taught me how a husband and father should be. A man who supported every dream I had and when I made mistakes, helped me find the way back. He rarely raised his voice, but when he spoke you knew it was important. Everyone loved him. He was probably the most loved introvert I’ve ever known.

He and I had been discussing churches. He grew up in a small country church and although he didn’t attend every Sunday, the tie back to religion was important to him. I told him I wanted to find a place where I belonged and he agreed to start visiting local churches with me. He wanted me to find a home as well. He’d never get the chance to join me in my search.

I’ll share in another post, but there were things the night before that led up to me getting the news that he had passed away unexpectedly. My world shifted on its axis. I felt like I was in a movie scene. The falling on the knees, the uncontrollable tears, the ache that never went away. It was as if someone had gut punched me over and over. And then I thought of my Mom. How would I be able to comfort her in this time? She’d just lost the love of her life.

The two weeks after his death were involved and heavy. There were experiences and moments in the weeks that followed that made me dive deeper into finding religion and belonging. I kept thinking that there was no way that I could feel and experience the things that I did unless there was more to this life. I tried a few places, and while there were good moments, I never felt accepted. I started thinking that maybe religion was more of an excuse for people to gather and visit instead of serve and encourage friendship. Even when I went to a place that I thought might be it, the Pastor started calling themselves a prophet, they contradicted their messages from week to week, and then chose which people they’d welcome and outcast, when they commercialized the message that everyone was welcome. Once again, I found a few who were welcoming, but once the cliques came around, I was left alone. I was shy when it came to breaching new groups and it didn’t appear that I was welcomed into any premade ones, although a few singular did always provide me a warm welcome.

I came to a point where I was confused. Those who were supposed to be welcoming, didn’t feel so. I began to wonder if I’d ever belong, And then I began to talk to friends who had been deep in religion and then changed their opinion. While their stories are theirs alone to tell, they did make me wonder. And then I began to listen to the beliefs of others. I began to find it strange that if you weren’t Christian then you weren’t saved, but then what about all those that came before Christianity and have beliefs than span before then? Why does the bible only host certain stories? Why are there so many religions but so many believe that theirs is the right one? As someone once told me, that’s why it’s called faith.

Now I say I changed after my Dad passed, because my who path to belief changed slowly, progressively, after. I want to believe wholeheartedly in the religion I was brought up in. But if I was made with a questioning personality, and if I am made in His image, then did he not make me that way?

I do believe something happens to us after. And to be honest, I’m not sure if I wish there was nothing or something. Nothing would mean that this is it. Something would mean that we are either working towards something, or starting over, and we in reality have no idea which. I like the idea of reincarnation. That we continue to live different lives and learn different lessons. And I definitely believe that something happens to our energy after. I’ve experienced too much to believe it just goes away permanently and immediately.

Perhaps there is one over-arching deity, over all the religions, allowing us to believe in it as we wish, and I can see that as being a reality as well. I want to believe in something as strongly as my Dad though. To have that conviction, that love, that relief that all will be well, no matter the outcome.

It just seems much harder with Him gone.