 | God’s a Prick |
 | |
…sometimes.
Or maybe it’s what we need to believe for a while when the world sucks and life doesn’t make sense. Sometimes there just has to be someone to blame. Maybe it makes it easier. Yes, I think it does.
PhoneSex girls….ooh, ahhh…so tempting, so forbidden, so dirty, so other-worldy. The fantasies we create make us urban legends, mythological maidens, illusive visions of perfection. But we are people, too. People to whom things happen. We experience bad hair days, traffic jams and rude sales clerks. We contend with broken promises, cranky parents and burnt popcorn. We curl ribbon, bake cakes, run marathons, and polish furniture. We laugh, we cry. We watch movies, read books and order pizzas. We bitch, we nurture, we complain, we celebrate.
And we get angry with God. Or at least I am angry at God and have been for the last few weeks. Despite being pissed, I know deep in my heart that God is goodness, light, beauty, and–most of all–fucking huge! Much bigger than me and more than I will ever be able to comprehend in this lifetime. I actually am comforted, even inspired, by this…if that makes any sense.
So something happened a few weeks back. And I needed to be with it for awhile before I brought it here. Someone I loved died. His life was troubled, and I am still getting used to the fact that there are no chances left to save him from himself.
Peace comes from knowing that he can’t hurt the world and the world can’t hurt him anymore.
Then I feel the emptiness. And I want to touch his face, his beautiful, warm face. Just one more chance. And I cry. Last night was one of those times. Today is ok.
So now you know.
Angela, my heart goes out to you. I remember the week my Father died. I had ample opportunities to tell him that I loved him, to let him know how much he meant to me, and how he had touched my life in so many ways. Did I do that? No, Dad was a manly man, so strong and self-assured. He was raised with typical German stoicism, we never talked of love or such. It was there, but we never voiced it. Now I’ll never have the chance to tell him, and I want to. This however was my fault, I cannot blame God or anyone else for my failure to tell him. You, on the other hand tried to help, it just didn’t take. I wish I could hold you tight and comfort you in your pain. Take comfort in this, time has a way of dulling our pain, it will always be there, but it won’t stay in the forefront of our mind. And before I forget, remember that you are loved and appreciated.
Angela I can feel your pain and I want you to know it is ok to be any way you want to be. I have been very mad at god before to as I think we all have. My thoughts are with you.
Thanks guys…I am ok. Thanks for loving me.
Angela, no doubt, he felt your love to the end, for your love is in sync with God and he was, I am sure, in God’s hands at the end. He hears you more clearly now and is smiling at the wonderful soul you possess. You are eternally dear.