Just a few days ago, my siblings and I gathered together at an idyllic place in the mountains and, one by one, scattered the remains of our beloved mother.
Many of my family take solace in the thought that they will see her again someday ‘across the River Jordan’. Yet as my husband and I discuss heady topics such as parallel universes and quantum entanglement, I am instead, solaced by the thought that my mom is more alive now than she was while bottled up inside a frame of skin and bones. This is the examination of death, by an atheist.
Energy can be neither created nor destroyed, so sayeth science.
This is the reality in which we live. It is incontestable, it is there in the math as assuredly as one plus one equals two. So when the essence of a soul, whatever energy is caught up in our being, is no longer caged by the laws of physicality, then we have to conclude that our energy is dispelled and scattered again throughout our universe, to be employed for newer enterprises (nature is brilliant at recycling and repurposing). There is great comfort in the thought that my mother is not relegated to just here and just there. She is all around now, freer in a manner that none of us can conceive, able to effect any number of possible outcomes. She is life, and that more abundantly.
I will miss her, make no mistake. I have keened for her passing and will do so again in days to come, I am sure. I will never again feel the sweetness of her kisses upon my lips nor hear the admonishing tone of her voice when my wild nature conflicted with her demure soul. And while in days past, I might have taken comfort in the hope of ‘seeing her again,’ today I am pacified by a more solid idea. My mother is ever with me, in every breath I take, in each word I write – in all manner of ways that her energy is now part of the universe itself, I am ever a recipient of her freedom. Though I may be heartbroken; I am content in this examination.
In Remembrance: HEA