Oh me of little faith…

My father’s memorial held a lot of special moments…

It also held some crap. Here’s some of that.

Being an atheist, people think I don’t know my religions. They forget I’ve studied. So, when Christians spoke of my dad being in heaven, they weren’t technically accurate but I let them have it as being close. But, when one of my brothers walked around, saying, “Dad is here with us.” I pretty much just wanted to puke!

Get your religious beliefs straight, people! If you’re going to go in for ancestor-worship, fine, but don’t do it under the guise of Christianity because that’s not what the Bible teaches! (Not that this has ever bothered anyone else – cough – stem cells – cough – gay marriage – cough – pro-war radicals – cough!)

I kept waiting for someone to tell me that my father was in a better place. I was ready to say, “Well, considering he was cremated, I’d say it’s doubtful.”

The best part of the day, however, came when my brother, Richard, and his wife, Teri, asked me if Vicky and I would consider being godparents to their son, Hayden. These two love their child so much, this was clearly an honor and I accepted it without hesitation, of course.

But then, Teri said, haltingly, “I know how you feel about… you know… God…”

It prompted a joke on my part, of course, but the truth is, she was very confused. I have no feelings about God at all. You can’t have feelings for something that doesn’t not exist, that is just a mental construct, a figment of your ancestor’s imaginations you were convinced had to be true.

… and, if my other brother is correct, they’re all here to make sure it sticks…