I was put in a situation where I had to decide my belief of life after death at a very early age. Critically injured in a motorcycle accident, my father died when I was only seven years old. This tragic event caused a major conflict in my belief. On one hand I wanted to believe in the possibility of life after death. It would be the only chance that I might get to see, touch, or hear my dad again. I thought about it all the time. I wondered if there would be a quite little farm pond, nestled in some trees, where he and I could go together and sit and fish like we used to do. The wind would blow gently; just enough to keep us cool and cause the surface of the water to shimmer with reflections of the white puffy clouds as they passed overhead in the faint blue sky. On the other hand, my belief of life after death required that I believe in God. This was difficult for me because I was angry with God. I couldn’t understand how the divine creator of life could be so cruel as to allow the life of a father of a small family in southeast Kansas to end, leaving a young widow and three children behind. I cried at night, for as long as I can remember, asking god to explain to me why my dad was gone. Being only seven years old, I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t getting an answer, and gave up on believing in God. I have spent a lot of time pondering this over the years, and there are just so many questions that come up when thinking about life after death and the creation of our universe and life. I tend to lean more toward the evolution side of thinking, but even that theory leaves some of my questions unanswered. I have come to the deduction that none of us really know what happens after we die, so when people speak of life after death, it is more of an assumption than statement of fact.
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