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fredsbend
fredsbend
6:34 AM
I went a few days without thinking about this. I was reminded however when I came to the site and noticed this room.
I always try to evaluate where I am in the stages of grief, or sometimes called stages of loss.
Most categorize them into Shock, denial, anger, depression, bargaining, and acceptance.
We certainly saw plenty of shock. No doubt I was shocked.
We saw a bit of anger.
I don't think any of us hit depression, but sadness (at varying intensities) definitely.
I'm not sure what my thoughts and feelings are at the moment.
Still a little sad.
This is my first experience with death since I've become agnostic.
I found myself about to say something religious, or spit out a little prayer here or there.
But I quickly caught myself saying "but I don't believe that ..."
I don't know. I'm feeling like being agnostic at this moment is easier than when I was Christian.
Prayer gives some illusion that you have at least some influence.
It's easier to accept the hopelessness of the situation.
Affable Geek is gone. Further, we don't know his family so we cannot support them.
But, considering most people recover from the loss of their family members, I'll hedge my bets that his family has a decent support network and will recover in time.
But this analytical approach is ... detached. There is no feeling. Rather than cope I kind of feel like I've escaped.
It's still very say, but my logic tells me "move on, it's over, there's nothing you can do, they will probably be fine."
But, I'm not sure that would actually be different if I were still a Christian.
I'm sure I would still try to reason myself to a better state.
Also as an agnostic, death truly has a finality to it, now.
It's over. Though I would have loved to, any chance to meet Affable Geek in person has passed and will not present itself again.
Now that I'm thinking about it, that does make me a little mad.
The hopelessness really puts a damper on any need or attempt to bargain.
Unlike the Christians here, I've not said "I look forward to meeting you in heaven".
If I believed that it would be a nice comfort, I suppose.
Except then I'm assuming he's there.
From which a certain line of thought can become quite dark, so I'd rather not go there.
So my logic says "move on, it's over ..." I still can't stop thinking about it at times. Like right now.
How does this work? Why does this happen? I almost want to say "Isn't there something I can do (to stop thinking about it)?"
Crazy. That sounds like bargaining.
This was just running thoughts. Thanks for reading.
 
 
9 hours later…
Jon Ericson
Jon Ericson
4:13 PM
@fredsbend For what it's worth, I contacted his church (Southview Community Church) and explained who we are and how important Affable was to us. The pastor wrote back and let me know that he was able to talk about this community at the memorial service and forwarded my email to the family. I included a link to our memorial thread on meta.
3
@fredsbend Unfortunately, heaven is not the comfort that people expect it to be. When my brother died, talk of heaven mostly rang hollow to me and my parents. Strangely, what turned out to be more comforting was "he's with Jesus". But not so much as you might expect.
The problem is that the death really is an evil and the hope that it has been redeemed does not make it any less evil.
 
 
5 hours later…
fredsbend
fredsbend
8:51 PM
@JonEricson This is nice. I'm glad you did that.
@JonEricson I don't understand the difference.
@JonEricson I used to regularly say that death is just wrong. There's something wrong with death.
I still somewhat do, but not so much anymore.
It was a common reason that I held on to belief.
It's not a very good reason because it was emotional, not reasonable.
I want death to be wrong. I want it to be unnatural because that gives me hope that it is escapable.
But wanting something is neither a reason to make it so, nor a reason to believe it.
I was seriously struggling with faith before my Grandfather died about 30 months ago.
We knew it was coming and it was blatantly obvious that he was going to die that day about 10 hours before he finally did.
Naturally, I was there the whole time with my wife and father.
I first wanted to be there to comfort my Grandfather and Father.
I also had never actually seen a person die. There was a scientific curiosity there as well.
And finally, I was hoping it would be a spiritual experience.
The whole time, I eagerly awaited something.
Anything.
His body just stopped working. Almost immediately, his face jaundiced, then grayed about 10 minutes later.
His tongue stuck from his mouth in the final minutes and petered as he exhaled.
His jaw was sealed open. Rigor mortis sets in quickly.
He did not open his eyes. He did not say anything. There was no feeling in the room.
With my limited but better than average understanding of biology, it was plainly obvious that this was an entirely natural effect of an earlier cause (a very complicated cause it turns out).
Scientifically, what I saw made sense with what I already knew.
Spiritually, nothing seemed to happen.
The room at one minute had exactly four people in it, then the next it had only three.
There was no miracle of life moving about, leaving his body, etc.
The systems (biology) where no longer working and were collapsing under their own strain. The cascade effects of age finally caught up and his body could no longer function.
It's all chemistry. And once he "died", or stopped breathing (which is the last thing to go right before the liver and heart functions), the chemistry continued and with no more or less vigor than when he was alive.
I had to dwell on this for a while and study a bit more about the biology of death, but it eventually became so obvious that all of it is well understood and explained, and it doesn't seem to have any spiritual implications if you start from a non-belief (skeptic's) stance in the first place.
The chemistry comes together at conception. It then comes apart at death.
I had similar thoughts about my son, who was born about 15 months later.
It was not a miracle that he was there and alive in my arms.
Nothing special actually happened. The chemistry came together at conception and the result was this baby.
If it was special and spiritual and God "gave life and breath" to him, then we might wonder why it is so scientifically predictable.
Granted, there still much we don't know about this, but from what we do know, it becomes more and more clear that the body is nothing more than an amalgamation of macro-chemical processes.
Everything the body does is induced by a chemical (or sometimes thousands) and can be explained and artificially induced via artificial introduction of those chemicals. That's why medicine works consistently.
With regards to baby making, we at least theoretically know how to select genes, force conception and implantation, menses, prevent menses, induce labor, prevent/postpone labor, and treat the fetus for conditions before it is even born.
And this all comes from an understand that looks at the body as a giant, super-complex chemical reaction.
Where years ago, the Lord closed wombs. The Lord gave you still borns. The Lord brought your menses when you were 8 weeks pregnant. The Lord made you labor 40 hours.
He apparently stopped working once we found out the real cause for these things.
There is nothing spiritual about any of it and there is little reason to believe otherwise.
SO WHY DID I SHARE ALL OF THIS?
Because I actually find more comfort in this than some hope that there is a heaven and I'll see this person again.
Agnosticism has given me a reason not to die and to prevent death.
Life is more precious now. More amazing. More incredible.
 

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