After the sudden, unexpected death of a friend Chris Hicke grapples with what it means to be an atheist.
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Death is never a fun subject to deal with or talk about. The loss of a loved one, be they friend or family, is painful and difficult to come to terms with. I found this out recently, when a friend, whom I’ll call K, passed away on New Year’s Day. Though I cannot claim to know her particularly well, news of K’s passing caught me completely off guard, and paralyzed me for the rest of the day.
I suppose I’m lucky, in a sense. I’m 23 years old, and this is the first time someone whom I’ve known has died. Many people have experienced this loss well before I have, though I don’t know that prior experience makes such news any easier to hear. Even though we’d only been in the same room a handful of times, the news reduced me to tears. Part of me still cannot accept that it happened. K was only 22 years old, she wasn’t supposed to die of disease; we’re part of that lucky demographic the CDC skips over when they warn us about some new strain of illness.
As I said, K and I didn’t spend a lot of time together, as things go. I don’t think I even knew her for much more than a year, yet I can’t get her out of my head. One of my first memories is of a Christmas party we were at that culminated in a cake fight at 3AM, after hours of playing Cards Against Humanity. Anyone who is completely okay with the fact you’ve smeared cake on their face, hair, and clothes, and responds in kind, is someone I’m going to remember, and certainly someone to be friends with. My memories of her were always of someone witty, intelligent, funny, and outspoken. K was honest and comfortable being herself in a way that is all too uncommon in my generation, especially where I live in Los Angeles where people with an inflated sense of self all think they’re going to be famous and important one day.
The fact that those traits are so uncommon is, I think, why K’s passing has had such an effect on me. Perhaps it’s my cynical and somewhat antisocial nature, but people who aren’t afraid to say what they think, be themselves, and raise hell if you have a problem with it, are much too rare, especially in a culture that still isn’t very open to women who express such traits.
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For better or worse, I do also pin a lot of it on my atheism. Nobody can say with any shred of honesty that I am a fan of religion, though part of me is envious of the belief in an afterlife as a way to cope with losing someone close to you. As someone who considers these beliefs misguided at best, I find myself unable to cope with the fact that K has ceased to exist. The fact that I’ll never again be able to exchange crude jokes, instigate feminist diatribes, or poke fun at the fact that she loves the band Avenged Sevenfold (my fellow metalheads will understand this one) is something that I’m not yet able to wrap my head around. To have such a vibrant life end so soon is tragic in a way that I don’t know that I can ever properly express or comprehend.
I want to be clear on one thing: ultimately, it is impossible to know what happens to someone when their body dies. My disbelief in all things supernatural and spiritual, as well as my love of science, lead me to the conclusion that death is simply the end. The closest I can come to believing in any kind of continuation is that the atoms that make up K will, in time, become parts of other life forms, and that she will continue to exist in such a way until the end of time. And yes, this does feel like an inadequate way to think of someone’s passing, but I cannot intellectually accept that there is an afterlife of some kind that awaits us when our time here is at an end.
For those of you who disagree, and believe in an afterlife, please understand a couple of things. First, understand that I, nor many other atheists, have any interest in dissuading you, or robbing you of the comfort your beliefs bring. As I said, I am envious of your belief in life after death, but I cannot accept it as my own. Second, know that there is a time and place to have a debate about what happens from here, and that following the death of someone an atheist cares about is not that time. Speaking for myself, I don’t usually seek out an argument about religion or faith anymore, but I will not tolerate someone trying to use my grief as a means of conversion; it is incredibly disrespectful, not just to myself, but to those who’ve passed, to use them as a way to further a religious agenda. If you want to do something helpful, you need only be there for us while we mourn and come to terms with our loss.
I do not know what has become of K from here. If my beliefs are correct, then she has become a part of the universe; the atoms that comprised her body will move on to inhabit all forms and sorts of matter, be it life, soil, or perhaps even a star. If I am wrong, then I look forward to what will probably be some sarcastic ribbing over the tears I shed for her passing. If there is another, third option that I have not conceived of, I look forward to discovering it when my time comes. In any case, I am glad that I knew K for the time that I did; she was one of those people who made life entertaining and enjoyable for all who knew her.
May she rest in peace.
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photo: overgraaeme / flickr
Grieve well. I’m an atheist who grew up Christian and all of my family are still card-carrying “are you going to go to heaven when you die?” fundamentalists. When my grandmother died this past summer at the age of 97, I was disturbed by how she and her passing were taken out of my experience and our presence as fellow human sojourners and spiritualized into a “she’s with Jesus now” catharsis. It went so far as to reframe her as something she wasn’t: a card-carrying “are you going to go to heaven when you die?” fundamentalist. Wonderful woman she, but… Read more »
Thank you for sharing.
I would much prefer that we remembered our lost loved ones as they were, to the best of our ability, than building them up as someone they weren’t. Doing such a thing strikes me as incredibly disrespectful.
I’m sorry for your loss. Death is always difficult to understand and accept. The best we can do is to cherish the memories and understand that we can always keep those we have lost under our heart. I don’t think that believing in the Blue Fairy Godmother or whatnot really helps – loss is loss. But I’m inclined to think that processing this is particularly tough for you since 1) it is the first time you have this experience, and 2) the deceased is a young person. It is in my experience so much harder to comprehend death of a… Read more »
Thank you.
For me, belief in an afterlife would be helpful because of the implication that I could see my friend again. Basing that belief on Christianity (which I was raised with) would not be much consolation, as K was not Christian and, by biblical standards, would not have entered Heaven.
my condolences to her friends and family. “may she rest in peace” is a very telling statement.
Thank you.
My deepest sympathy and empathy to you Chris. As an athiest I have experienced the loss of friends and family, struggled with the terms and learned methods and ideas of grief. I was about your age when a dear friend committed suicide, what struck me harder was that we had made plans to meet up just the day after. The loss hit me without warning and tore my heart. Though at the time I had agnostic beliefs, the idea of an after life was unappealing and like you I simply believed his matter would continue to be part of the… Read more »
Thank you.
I will always be grateful for what time I had to know my friend as well, and find myself focusing more on those times than any notion of what, if anything, has happened to her now.
I’m sorry for your loss. Sending love your way ♡
Thank you.
I offer you my sincerest condolences. In the words of one great philosopher: “Stay thirsty, my friend.” You have a lot of living to do and maybe you’ll see things differently later. I know I have. Read as much as you can and maybe take up a hobby like ghost hunting. I’m not kidding. The only way you’ll believe in an afterlife is when you’ve come across evidence of the supernatural, which really isn’t that rare. I’ve met so many people who have their own ghost stories and they all can’t be crazy.
“Speaking for myself, I don’t usually seek out an argument about religion or faith anymore, but I will not tolerate someone trying to use my grief as a means of conversion; it is incredibly disrespectful, not just to myself, but to those who’ve passed, to use them as a way to further a religious agenda.”
I stated quite specifically that this is NOT the time to push your beliefs on others. I appreciate your sympathy, but I will not tolerate attempts at conversion or persuasion.
I’m so sorry for your loss. May she live on in your memory.
Thank you.