Mi Madre Esta Con Dios

I have always wondered what happens to our souls when we die. My faith and upbringing would have me believe that we rush to the face of God the moment we pass away: The spirit and soul, which are eternal, are united with Christ at the moment of the believer’s death (2 Corinthians 5:8).

6Therefore we are always confident and know that as long as we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord. 7We live by faith, not by sight. 8We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord. 9So we make it our goal to please him, whether we are at home in the body or away from it. 10For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, that each one may receive what is due him for the things done while in the body, whether good or bad.

But of course I’m not so sure. Just how it’s been accepted that “away from the body”  means “immediately with the Lord” is confusing. That much is wide open to interpretation, but it’s a comforting thought to not imagine our loved ones wandering about some nether region in limbo wondering where they are. And perhaps why we can’t see them anymore.

When my friend Steve died suddenly of a heart attack at 39 I spent days wondering if his soul was just ripped from his body and he was wandering about in a spiritual transfer station waiting for his paperwork to some thru so he could move on.

Can you imagine that red tape? Probably a lot like the DMV…

“your papers haven’t come in yet, please take a seat and you will be called in a few thousand years” and Steve would have to sit back down in a cold plastic chair in a massive room the length of infinity. I can imagine more than half of the chairs filled with the newly deceased, sitting there, confused and uncertain of what just happened.

Steve died suddenly.

My mother had 18 months to prepare for this as much as possible. Do I imagine her sitting there now? Sort of, yes I do.

She took her last breath on Friday evening around 5:30. I imagine her soul or spirit sat up in the hospital bed she had been trapped in for over a year, threw her legs over the side and hopped out of bed. She would have seen my father attending to her now lifeless body and she might have stood there to watch the moments that followed, maybe she waited long enough to see him place a call to me telling me what just happened, and I imagine she was in the parking lot with me as I spoke to him about it.

I imagine my mom can now travel at the speed of light, but I also think she is waiting for her paperwork to be processed in that transfer station where Steve has taken a number an wandered off.

I imagine my mother was reunited with her mother sometime that day (after 22 years) and I imagine she wondered out loud why Aunt Eleanor was there. (no one told my mom Aunt El had passed away a few weeks ago, Dad thought she wouldn’t have been able to handle that info at the time)

The bible says if we are absent of our bodies then we are present with the Lord. (or God) and that is a comforting thought if it’s anything. I’d hope Steve and my mom and any number of people waiting in line at this transfer station get thru as quickly as possible.

But they are on a journey none of us can comprehend right now. My heart aches a bit thinking of her wondering about all alone out there. Even when we die and are surrounded with family we die ALONE she passed over by herself, we were left behind.

We each were born alone, we went thru that process technically alone although we were entering the world to a family and a room full of lights and people in masks and noise and cold. We experienced birth alone. Individually we experience death alone regardless of who is there when it happens.

For now a difficult new chapter begins in this family as my father begins his journey as a widower. It is this fact that seems to bother me the most.

Mi Madre Esta Con Dios 

Translated: “My mother is with God”

be well, Scott

I’ll be back here after all. Just can’t stifle the words.

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Published in: on August 22, 2010 at 11:18 am  Comments (3)  

Via Con Dios

After some careful consideration it appears this blog has finally run it’s course. I’ve been moaning and bitching about having had cancer and all the boo hoos that came with it for almost 4 years now. My original blog “Taking Life One Day At A Time” became this one and “Nobody Gets Out Of Here Alive” has served me well, until lately.

But like everything else in life, all things (some good, some bad) have to come to an end. Timely or not.

So this is my last post here. Perhaps after some time and life have passed I’ll pop up again on the web complaining about something else, hopefully more eloquently than I have done thus far.

Have a nice life.

Be Well.

Thanks for reading and dropping a comment or two (or several) along the way.

ok, that’s it.

Via Con Dios!

-Scott

Published in: on August 11, 2010 at 2:41 am  Comments (1)  

Some Truths, Some Lies…

I was born under a dark and cynical moon in October of ’69. My parents did heavy drugs in those days and almost named me Willow Moonbeam. Thankfully someone wrote Scott on the birth certificate.

I grew up on the road, my parents were wanted in 5 states on a felony drug charge and my dad was contemplating a sex change operation to elude the FBI.

My father worked for the Baldecki’s in the textile business and they had Jack Kennedy’s head in a glass jar in a back room of the factory.

Rumor was they wanted to transplant it onto some dumb schmuck’s body just like Frankenstein’s monster. But then “mumbles” got arrested and the plan went to pot. Where JFK’s head went is anybody’s guess.

I spent my early years in the back of an old VW wagon. My parents camped out in the drive ways of random extended family in PA and VA and FL. Up and down I95 until my dad lost the van in a poker game in Elizabeth NJ. They were playing for pink slips.

When I was ten they bought my little brother on the black market, he had a major genetic defect because was conceived in a test tube and frozen in 1952, well before technology made this commonplace. They thawed him out in 1973. What a ornery cur he was too.

We moved to Fairview and Acres in 1980 and my father tried to go legitimate selling woman’s underwear door to door. My mother was taking fistfuls of Valium and my brother was eating paint out of the can. I on the other hand only pretended to drink the cool aid and was never brainwashed into the screwed up mindset they all adapted to by early 1984.

in 1985 My father tried cloning the family dog just before the dog died and in a freak accident actually accomplished a full size replica of the dog, but the clone was of the sick version and it died 5 hours after the original dog gave up the ghost. He tried again on a squirrel and then Uncle Arnie.

One day I came home from school and two versions of my grandmother were sitting at the kitchen table having a conversation. My mother said one grandmother was from present day and the other one was from one day in the future. We weren”t sure how she got back in time by one day. But they chatted away for hours like they just met.  She told us wild stories about gas and electric hybrid cars and who would host “The Price is Right” one day. She explained how Hollywood would make the shittiest movies ever and release them in the summer and tried to explain this abomination called “American Idol” and reality TV. She told us Jeff Propst is the anti-christ.

Soon my black market test tube baby brother was hired as a speed bump in the mall parking lot, my parents threw  party. They had to wait for his shift to end and for him to change out of his concrete uniform and shower off the engine oil and other exhaust fumes before coming home to his party. He got sick and threw up behind the couch.

I was given a day old piece of cake my one day in the future grandma brought from tomorrow when everybody else the old stand by: Ice Box cake. (fresh made that day?!?)

I walked outside to the edge of the world since the world was flat, I stared into the abyss. I felt a tap on my shoulder and it was this beautiful girl holding out 3 pills in the palm of her hand.

She was dressed in a short white skirt and very tight top, her breasts bulging forth struggling to remain in her blouse. She wore white thigh high stockings and red high heels. Her blond hair was up in a pony tail and she wore red lipstick. She was my teenage future mid-life fantasy woman dressed a sexy nurse…she handed me the pills and I took them. She turned to leave as I washed them down with a warm Pepsi.

I tried to catch up but tripped and fell out of bed….

*********************

 Body pain has been minimal, last couple of days. It comes and goes and seems to mirror Fibromyalgia. I have an appointment with a Rheumatologist next month.

We’ll see what he arrives at. Can’t wait.

Be well, Scotty