What happens when we die? Purgatory? Heaven? Hell? Or the big black nothingness that engulfed us before we were borne?
I do not intend to spark a religious debate. I merely ask the question, because as most Native American tribes believe, death is the biggest mystery of all. No one who has died is able to tell us. No one alive can look over that hill and see what's on the other side. Death has to be the biggest mystery of all, and there are no answers, only beliefs, and faith, and certain big mouth preachers who KNOW the truth because they read it in the Bible.
All of this comes by way of a funeral, the passing of a friend, and the way in which his death was ceremonialized, the way his afterlife was promised to all in attendance if only we would accept the preacher's faith. Certain that this man of God would soon bring out a tub of water, I left a little early to avoid being baptized. My deceased friend walked out with me, I'm sure of it. He didn't like being used as a recruiting tool.
Shame on you, Mr. Preacher. That funeral was supposed to be about my friend, not your weekly attendance figures.