In Life and In Death.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “In Good Faith.”

I was always curious about things even though I was taught never to question the Bible and the existence of God, I did. But growing up with a religious family it sort of becomes a part of you whether you like it or not. We used to go to church every Sunday and on days that require us to until I was old enough to be taken seriously when I said no. Going to church was never my thing, I’ve always taught to believe in God and I did but church was a whole other ordeal for me.

In Life and the day to day miracles or unexplainable events, usually related to good fortune, you sometimes feel that there’s someone guiding you, watching you and looking out for you. Someone who gave you that big break because He knows you need it and that you’ve been suffering. Someone who gave you direction or guided you to the right path. It could also be that He gave you what your heart desired because you deserved it even though it was impossible for you to attain it. Faith strengthens when we experience happiness or relief.

But in death, it can either strengthen or falter. I’ve experienced quite a few losses in my life; I’ve lost both grandfathers, a grandmother and my father at a young age. I’ve lost friends too and family of those who are close to me.  It’s never easy for me to accept it, and it also doesn’t get easier after experiencing one, it’s always a tragedy.

The death of my grandfather whom I was very close too, followed by the death of my father two years later was the reason why I lost my faith for a long time. I couldn’t accept that their  years of suffering was part of a bigger plan and I was forced to grow up without a father. He was diagnosed with cancer when I was eight years old, stage 5 nasopharyngeal cancer and the doctor told him he only had a few months at best. He endured for almost five years. My dad isn’t a cancer survivor but he fought till his last breath. He had countless surgeries, radiation therapy and chemotherapy. We were at the hospital almost everyday and it came to the point where we knew everyone there including the guards at the parking lot.The procedures that he went through just to keep him going were more than I could bear. My only consolation when he died was that he wasn’t in pain anymore.

The doctors, at one point, asked him why and he told them that he wanted to teach his little girl to never give up.

His death hit me hard.

It took me a long time to accept that he’s gone and it took longer for me to heal. There was a time where I couldn’t even talk about it and an instance where my brain blocked parts of it.

During that time of finding myself and healing. I found my faith in the higher power again.

Religion is a difficult topic to discuss. People always have something to say about it and sometimes even force their beliefs on you. We should respect each other’s beliefs no matter what they are, even if it contradicts ours entirely. After all, wars have been waged because of it.




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