My struggle with religion is something I've had all my life, and one I don't take light-heartedly.
As I am writing this, it's been two weeks ago since I lost one of my grandfathers, Papa Joe, to a tragic fall on a Sunday morning. Earlier in the year, March 6th, 2018, I lost another grandfather to cancer. Each with completely different situations, but I feel as if I never got to fully say goodbye to either of them. One was so sudden, the last chance I had to see him was in the emergency room to pray after he passed; the other I knew would happen over the span of months, but never wanted to fully accept losing him from my life.
I've never had to deal with the death of a close family member until this year, and it's brought up many of my suppressed doubts about faith and religion. Even as a child, when I went to church every Sunday with my family, I could never stop questioning this belief in God.
I remember being six or seven and making myself repeat over and over "I believe" when I felt so ashamed and guilty that I couldn't. I forced myself to read the Bible every night because I believed that's what a good Christian girl would do. My whole family believed, and my whole church believed, so why couldn't I? I could never wrap my head around it all, but then again, maybe you're not supposed to. Then my church began to fall apart when my parents got a divorce, and that was that. Each parent tried to find a new church to belong to, but we never stayed anywhere long. I haven't been to church much since, except for special occasions.
To be honest, I envy my religious friends because they find comfort and peace within their faith when I never could. I still pray because I'd like to think someone is listening. I'm not atheist, I definitely believe there's something bigger than us out there, but I'm not certain what it is. This is why I choose to label myself as agnostic.
More recently, I've found myself becoming more spiritual, especially since certain occurrences started happening around my Pop Pop's death in March that I can't explain.
My Pop Pop was diagnosed in November 2017, and we were hopeful for a while. But his condition rapidly began to decline. Around February 2018, I started to have a migraine that lasted at least a month and put me in the emergency room twice. The second time it got so bad was after I had a phone call with my three-year-old cousin, who told me our Pop Pop was going to become a star that very night. She knew. I was in so much pain, but I believe it was so I would be home. I was there so my dad could tell me in person at three in the morning that he had passed away.
The following weekend was the funeral, and it wouldn't be family occasion without something going wrong.... That being said, our car got locked in the parking garage at night. So we decided to walk to CVS down the road which happened to be under a row of street lights. As we walked down the sidewalk, one by one the lights right above us flickered off and then turned back on when we left from underneath them. We were all shocked, but knew he was following us.
Later that year, my grandmother and his wife received a lovely present on the doorstep; a family of baby foxes. They decided to live near her front porch and visit from time to time. We thought of these creatures and the constant deer to be signs from my Pop Pop because he loved nature so much. My grandmother has had more animals around her house this year than before!
Isabelle Bartolomeo
You may not believe me or think these are just simple coincidences, but everyone believes something different. I haven't seen any signs from my Papa Joe, but I'm watching.
You both are dearly missed and loved so much. Rest in Peace.
