Some people claim to know. They've seen soft lights, green meadows, felt God's embrace. If you find that comforting, I'm glad. But none of it is certain.
Kenneth L. Samuel
It is only when we face and overcome our fears of death that we become free to live.
You can run from death. You can immerse yourself in the surface, diverted by screens and magazines, distracted from everything, including existence itself.
When it seems the end has come, "but God." When you see no way forward or out, "but God." When death has done its work and it seems all hope is gone, "but God." Because of these two little words, because of the defiant divine disjunction everything is different now.
Every year on November 1, All Saints Day, I remember Sacred Heart cemetery in the town where I grew up. It was a huge Polish cemetery situated on a long sloping hill next to a busy intersection. Starting at dusk on November 1, the eve of the Catholic All Souls Day, the entire cemetery would be lit up with thousands of red votive candles on nearly every grave. It looked like the dead were getting ready to have a party and had turned on all the lights in the house.