Here's my churchless "death letter." But I'm not dying.

Yesterday on my HinesSight blog I wrote a post called "My 76th birthday has me thinking about sending death letters before I die." Here's how it starts out.

For a while I've been pondering the notion of sending death letters to friends, family, and other people important to me -- not letters to be delivered after I die, but while I'm very much alive, not even sick. 

This idea has gained strength as I approach my 76th birthday. That sounds damn old to me. Which, it is.

My sister died at 71. My mother died at 73. My father, almost entirely absent from my life, died at 73 (best I can estimate; I'm not sure about the exact age).

So while I'm pretty healthy at the moment, having taken better care of myself than those relatives, I still sort of feel like I've living on borrowed time. After all, usually we have no way of knowing when we'll take our last breath.

Accidents happen. Unexpected heart attacks happen. Murders happen. The only way death is known in advance is if we commit suicide or if we have a fatal disease whose course is predictable.

My sister and mother died without me being able to speak with them. My father, the same, though we were so distant, I might not have wanted to talk with him before his death. 

I regret not being able to tell my sister and mother how much I loved them and would miss them. Hopefully they knew this, but we weren't a super-intimate family. I never told them things that I now wish I had, such as regrets about how I could have been a better brother or son, and my appreciation for all they did for me which, in retrospect, I took for granted more than I should have.

That's my motivation for writing individualized death letters to people I care about and sending them out while I'm alive and well, aside from some chronic health problems that are annoying rather than life-threatening. 

The letters would be a reflection of my deep feelings for these people. They'd allow me to say things more honestly and directly than I'm able to do in my usual communications with them. I'd imagine that I was on my death bed, even though I wouldn't be. What would I want to say to each of them if I knew that I only had fifteen minutes of living left?

For sure it wouldn't be aimless chit-chat. It would be heartfelt, real, emotional.

I'm beginning my death letter project with this post directed at those who visit my Church of the Churchless blog. Not just current visitors, everyone who has visited here since I started the blog in 2004 -- which now has a total of 3,655 posts, 74,366 comments, and 7,377,169 pageviews. 

I hope to keep this blog going for many more years. But one thing is certain about life: it's uncertain. This was the last paragraph of my HinesSight post.

If I ever have a sudden massive heart attack or find a big semi-truck about to hit my little Subaru head on, I don't want my last thought to be, Damn, I never told _____ how much I care about them.  I'd rather have it simply be, Fuck! I'm about to die!

So I'm saying it now: I deeply care about every single person who visits this blog, even though I've met very few of you in person. Without people reading and commenting on my posts, this blog would simply be me sending words into a cyberspace void. 

I realize that I annoy visitors who don't share my increasingly atheistic worldview. Thanks for putting up with me. Though it may not always seem like I'm practicing what I'm preaching, I truly do believe in what the tagline of this blog calls spiritual independence. 

That includes believing in God and the supernatural. While I can sound harsh toward religious believers, naturally I have friends who fall into that camp. When speaking to people face-to-face, I never belittle their religion because that wouldn't be courteous. 

I readily admit that sometimes my criticisms of religiosity cross the line from reasonable objection to rabid insults.  As is obvious, I'm decidedly imperfect. My passion for the truth as I see it can get the better of me. 

When I started this blog I figured that most visitors to it would be like me, not affiliated with any religion, though perhaps they were in the past, also like me. But judging from comments on my posts, a large share of visitors believe in God and the supernatural.

That's been a good thing, actually.

So while I'm thankful to everyone who visits this blog, I'm especially thankful to those who read and comment on my posts and aren't atheist or agnostic. You help keep this blog from being an echo chamber of religious skeptics. That would be boring, even though at first I thought that's what I wanted this blog to be.

I struggle with life much of the time. Always have, always will. Writing for me has been much needed therapy, a way for me to get out of my personal worrying mind and into ideas that are more universal. Each night I sit down at my MacBook Pro laptop and write a post for one of my three blogs.

Every other day I write a churchless post, because this blog has more visitors than my HinesSight and Salem Political Snark blogs. As I sit down to compose a post, I feel the presence of Church of the Churchless visitors. It isn't that I'm writing for you, since really I'm writing for myself.

However, you're in my mind, an unseen group of people that I want to share some ideas with that interest me. I'm grateful for your presence. It makes me feel less lonely to know that even though we likely will never encounter each other in person, you're out there, scattered around the world, forming a little community.

A weird little community, and I mean that in a good way. Each person who comments regularly has their own unique style. For some reason the bar scenes in the early Star Wars movies come to mind, if I'm remembering those alien worlds correctly. 

There's a lot of strange creatures drinking (if that's what they were doing) and carrying on. Yet somehow they all get along together. Well, except when they don't. Then a fight might break out. Just like on this blog.

We've all got our own ways of looking at the world. Often they conflict. But we keep on talking and carrying on. All that has been a source of great satisfaction for me. If I die tomorrow, or ten years from now (the actuarial prediction for my remaining lifespan), this blog will have been one of my activities that I feel most good about. 

Thanks for making that possible.

Comments

[Tej from Bangkok]

Happy belated 76th birthday Brian!

[s]

Happy belated birth day Brian!
I like your post about it!
Itś nice to read and write sometimes here in your blog.
The last post is nice and very sweet also.
All your overthinkings and books and ideaś are really nice to read.
Because most of us were once Satsangiś we understand things and recognice sometimes ourself in it.

Thank you!!
<3

[Ron E]

Nice post Brian. I enjoy the varied blogs, better than doing crosswords - gets the brain cells extending themselves.
Happy birthday - and just to say, I've got six years on you, so I need the mental exercise.

[Appreciative Reader]

Belated good wishes, Brian. Wish you many happy returns!

[Martin]

Happy 76th Birthday Brian and many thanks for your blog posts, they are always very interesting and thought provoking.

[Arun]

Happy birthday Brian. And wish you will celebrate atleast 24 more. And continue to write as you have been.

[manjit]

This is a beautiful post. Thanks for sharing.

And happy belated birthday!