Bruce, Religion, and Death

When I was twelve, Bruce asked me to go to church with him. I remember that my mom said that I was too impressionable to go to church. She was an atheist (or so I believed) and was sure that I would be swept away by the currents of salvation.

I'm not sure what I did that Sunday (church or not), but before long I was an avid church goer. My favorite was the Catholic church, partly because of the wine and the wafers (I didn't know any better).

One Easter I went to four churches. I became known as the religious globe trotter. A few years later I joined a very liberal Baptist discussion group at the University of Chicago (I liked both the discussion and this cute blond) and even reconciled my disbelief in God with the minister's belief that God is only real because we believe in him.

My parents turned into agnostics after they left the University because (in my mind) they had many new friends who were believers. They never convinced me that their transformation (from atheist to agnostic) was authentic, but they were steadfast in their new belief that we just don't know whether God exists. My dad even denied that he had ever been an atheist.

Now that I'm at the top of a hill (and I hope, not the last hill) and am looking down at the rest of of my life, I'm wondering about the end, just beyond the farthest point that I can see. I certainly would like to be led by a beautiful angel into eternity, but know that hoping for something doesn't make it so.

Bruce (5 Jul 1945-15 Jun 1972) is gone. Life did not agree with him. I'm not sure what happened, but I knew Earth was not the right place for him. Will I see him again? I do not know.