Past lives

When I was in 7th grade, I lost all my friends from 6th grade.  You know… new school, bigger, scarier…  Some of them moved to different parts of the state, some to different schools…  That old hat.  And I managed, with the help of my neighbors and a cassette called Not Just for Sundays Anymore, I found God.

And for three to four years I kept God.  Or, I should say, I kept Christianity.  It was a friend, somewhat, when I needed a friend.  It was something to think about in bed at night.  It was also a source of major contention within myself and, to some extent, with my parents.  For those three or four years, I also attended a week long camp called Summerfest.

The camp was a non-denominational Christian camp exactly like you’d expect a non-denominational Christian camp to be.  It was loads and loads of fun, with games, singing, dancing, classes, and college food (as it is always held on a college campus).   There was this band that always played during the singing/dancing portion of the shows, and this band had a drummer.

And the drummer’s name was Bobo.

Fast forward to a week ago.  I’m sitting in my sign language class, waiting for it to start, actually. A girl in my class explains to our teacher that she needs to have her cell phone on because her best friend is expected to die within the next couple of days.  She goes on to mention that is name is Bobo.

Eine minute bitte.

“I think I know him!” I say.  “Drummer?  Summerfest?” she says.  Yup.  I knew him.  And he was dying.  And die he did, Thursday evening.

Let’s go back a bunch of years.  Like nine.  Nine (and a half) years ago, I sat at camp during prayer time and did math in my head.  Sometime before that summer, I decided I didn’t believe in Christianity.  I realized I felt more guilty than anyone should because I didn’t pray enough, didn’t read the bible enough.  I thought it was stupid that someone would only get into heaven because they believed someone died on a cross for them.  So I became agnostic.  And there I’ve sat for the last decade.

So what does one do when someone that had a major hand in her past religious life is passing away?  I still believe there could be a god or gods.  So I wrote on his Caringbridge wall “God bless” (among other things).  At the time he was a huge inspiration.  If he were still available to talk to, I’m sure he would still be an inspiration.  But I don’t think I could ever be convinced back into Christianity.  Not that I have anything against Christians, it’s just no longer for me.

However, even though he was no longer a part of my life, I will miss Bobo now more than I ever did before (and I did often think back on him with nostalgia).  So, Bobo… Take us out one more time, and let me see you Boogaloo.

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3 thoughts on “Past lives

  1. I too flirted with Christianity for a while. When my mom passed. I was comforted by the thought of an afterlife. Just because you don’t believe in Jesus, doesn’t mean there isn’t an afterlife. And if you are atheist, the person is gone and they don’t have any thoughts or problems anymore. I guess it’s a win-win for the deceased. The grief that you feel when a person dies is just the realization that YOU don’t have them anymore, not that they are missing things. (This is just my opinion)

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    • DK says:

      I def. agree. I don’t believe in an afterlife, per se. I’m happy that Bobo is at peace. He had signed a DNR because he was tired of surgery, tired of brain damage. I still think he was too young, but it’s important to know when to cut your losses. I don’t think it’s brave to hold on, just a whole bunch of unnecessary expense and pain.

      I am certainly mourning his loss, but also finding it slightly odd that I don’t question my lack of faith one bit. Knowing myself, I’d think I should be questioning it right now.

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