With two deaths in our family this week, there has been a LOT of talk about mortality with the kids.
'Nana Icella dived, aye Dad?'
'She died, yes.'
'Are you going to dive, Dad?'
'Hopefully not for a long, long time yet.'
'Am I going to dive, Dad?'
It has been hard for me.
Both because I'm one of those people who cries reading the newspaper, who cries during a funeral on T.V (even if I've never watched the series before) and who breaks down at the very thought of losing someone.
And the thought of anyone in our wee family 'diving' is just too much for me.
I know that fear of death is incredibly normal, I mean, it's the biggest unknown in life, huh? It's the biggest mystery of all. It's a major.
And also because it's times like these I wish I had some sort of faith - a belief of where we go, or what happens to us, after this.
I have tried and tried to work out where I stand on this one, but nothing seems to resonate with me. Not yet, anyway. Turns out you can't MAKE yourself believe something, unfortunately.
I'm quite envious of those of you who truly believe, and have such strong faith, in an afterlife. You are very blessed to have such reassurance.
I know that both Abraham's Nana and his Great Aunt, who passed this week, had faith that they were headed to a happier place, where they would be reunited with their lost loves.
I strongly, strongly hope that that is exactly where they are now.
Rest in peace, beautiful women.
