How to survive death ... without religion

Wed, 06 Jun 2007 10:03:12 +0100

Religion has always been incomprehensible to me. But when my mother died, recently, I was able to experience first hand the the challenge of living without religious belief through a time when religion serves to reassure many.

Unfortunately, I just can't see that the existence of one or more benign super deities can in any way be proved scientifically. I do not understand why so many other people are willing to accept historical collections of writings and hearsay with so much confidence that they would probably dismiss out of hand, if they came across it, in any other part of their lives.

Indeed, the more I learn about the universe, with its immense planets, suns and galaxies, the less obvious it is to me that there can be anything out there apart from perhaps many other intelligent species, who, like ourselves, but on their own planetary lumps of rock, have developed intelligence and some control over their lives and environment.

However, it is said that religion is at its most important at key stages in our lives and, without doubt, it is true that people tend to turn to religion to celebrate births, deaths and marriages.

Without any doubt, it would have been nice to have imagined my mother going to some better place. Like any son, I loved her dearly. The most difficult part of the experience of bereavement was to emotionally understand that my mom, who was so important to me, could suddenly not be there any more. Logically I knew the facts. Yet my whole existence screamed that this was not possible.

In the midst of this enormous contradiction, it would have been very easy to believe that my mother had not really died but instead lived on in some way with some devine spirit. But, to me, this would have been taking the easy way out and, in the end, hanging on to what I saw as the truth was more important.

I cannot say that the immediate days after the bereavement, or even the months or years were harder than they would have been to somebody with faith in an afterlife. I suspect that the pain is the same for everybody, regardless of faith, color or creed.

What I do know to be true is that it took me a long time to find a way through the pain and the solace I eventually found, although not based on religion, may appear to some to be close to it.

The moment when the pain began to lift - or at least become more tolerable - occurred when I was walking in a rural location.

It occurred to me, that, in a very scientific way, my mother was living on through me, her son. My very existence was determined by the genes she had passed on to me. The eyes that I was seeing through were controlled by the genes that she had given me. The legs that were carrying me across that moorland were designed and grown from the biological code she had freely donated. The brain with which I was able to formulate these thoughts and think of her was equally determined by the genetic code we shared. In a truly scientific way, I was her.

Of course, I am a man and she was a woman and, naturally, my father had some hand in the exercise, although not a very lasting one. Also, there are many experiences that I have had in my life that have conditioned and made me the person I am. Unquestionably, people are the product of nurture as well as nature. I examined these rationalizations from every angle but could not escape from the fact that I was, indeed, an extension of my mother and that she was genuinely within me and a part of me. I don't mean as a spirit or anything that cannot be measured or proved scientifically. I simply mean the genetic code by which I have been biologically designed but which is so important to my fundamental existence. I was designed by her and the design is unique to our relationship.

Finally, I had found the key to resolving the pain of her death and missing her and I immediately received immense consolation.

During the last months of her life, when I had known that her time was limited, I had spent as much time as I could taking her out for drives in my car. Sometimes we would stop and enjoy a beautiful countryside view. In that moment, the view across the moorland was particularly beautiful, as the sun was setting into the sea. There was golden heather, green grass and yellow gorse flowers everywhere for miles around.

They say that talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity. In this case, I disagree. I said out aloud,

"Hey mother, look at that great view!"

I knew she was seeing it through my eyes and that was enough.

Perhaps sharing my experiences of how to survive death without religion, might help others. I hope so.

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Bye for now Rob

(Rob Hopcott - online author)

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How to survive death ... without religion