Is There A God?

When Cole died, my world stopped. Nothing made sense. It felt like my mind went in a million different directions at once. There were so many unanswered and unanswerable questions. Not to mention the overwhelming emotions I was feeling. I pictured my mind as an exploding galaxy with stars and asteroids going all over the place. It was too much to bear. I couldn’t think clearly. I couldn’t really think at all.

I wanted to make sense of what had happened, if it was even possible to do that, but most of the time I just felt like curling up in a ball and disappearing. Luckily auto pilot kicked in for the things that needed to get done. I don’t know how I would have functioned otherwise. I don’t think I could do the things I did then, like arrange a funeral, now. They would trigger emotions that would likely debilitate me.

One of the questions that kept appearing in my exploding galaxy as I tried to make sense of things was “Why?”

I wanted to understand why this happened. Whether there was a purpose. Was this too much to ask?

Even if I wasn’t such a logical person, I’d want to understand why this happened because perhaps that would make it easier to accept and less painful.

Many people turn to religion at times like these. I’m Jewish, but I don’t consider myself a religious person. Apart from the culture and rituals of Judaism, which I enjoy, I see religion as a set of values. Be a good person. Help other people as much as you can. Treat others as you would like to be treated. Accept people for who they are. And try to make the world a better place. That’s it. Pretty simple. Nothing novel. Most religions espouse these values.

You may have noticed I didn’t mention God. That’s because I don’t believe in the existence of God and why I don’t consider myself a religious person. There may or may not be a God. I don’t know. Whether one believes in the existence of God is a personal matter. I respect other people’s views and hope they respect mine, too.

I don’t know exactly what Cole thought about religion, but I’m sure he had his own thoughts. He had his own thoughts about most things, even at a young age. Here’s an excerpt from a note he wrote me about going to synagogue for Rosh Hashanah (the Jewish new year) when he was about fifteen years old:

“It’s Thursday morning and we’re about to leave for synagogue since it’s Rosh Hashanah. I shouldn’t say we because I’m not going. I’m not sure why…..

I’m sorry for not going. I know it’s a stupid decision and I know that you’re disappointed and the fact that you’re disappointed would usually be enough to make me do whatever it was that made you disappointed because you do so much for me, but today something is telling me not to go. I don’t know what it is and some level of me wishes I could resist it and go, but as soon as I think about going alarms go off in my head and I honestly start to freak out, don’t really know why and it’s really bugging me, but that’s how I feel.”

Cole was an extremely logical person. And as I’ve said before and you can see from his note, he did his own thinking. I don’t remember him ever saying he didn’t believe in God, but knowing him as I do, I doubt he did. I have no doubt, though, based on what I know of Cole and what everyone who knew him has said, that we shared similar values.

Now back to “Why?” I’ve asked myself this question countless times in many different ways. It tortures me a lot. It would be easier if I believed in God and could say Cole’s death was God’s will and part of a larger plan. But I don’t believe that. And if I WAS a person of faith, a tragedy like this might convince me to give up my faith.

I used to think everything happens for a reason. That the universe has a plan for us and will take care of us. I don’t believe those things any longer. In my mind, and in my heart, there can be no good reason to take the life of such a beautiful soul.

So now I believe there is no God, there is no universe to take care of us and there is no larger plan. I’m left with believing some things happen for no reason. Life is random and life is fragile. There’s no point trying to figure out why things happen. They just do. That’s my answer to the question “Why?” Unfortunately, that doesn’t make Cole’s death easier for me to accept or less painful.

Not that I think it would make any difference to me if I knew why Cole died. I’d still miss him every minute of every day and nothing can change that.

When a lifelong friend of mine died about seven years ago, I reached out to Cole to let him know. It felt good to share my sadness with him. He was very compassionate and he knew what to say to make me feel better. He always did. Not just with me. With almost everyone. That was his gift. He made you feel better.

On the day of the funeral, Cole sent me this note:

“Think of it as a celebration of his life. There is no way to know that being dead is worse than being alive, so there’s no reason you should feel bad for him. You are allowed to miss your friend, but he will always be with you in one way or another, you’ll see something one day and think ‘hey that reminds me of Jonathan’ and you’ll smile because of the fond memories you have of you two. Love you a lot.”

I feel so lucky to have such a close and special relationship with a person like Cole. Yes, he was the child and I was the parent, but he was so wise in many ways. It gave me a sense of peace to know he was always there to say the right thing that would make me feel better or explain a situation I didn’t understand. And to think I would have his wisdom and compassion by my side for the rest of my life was comforting beyond words.

What Cole said about my friend was right. I don’t know if being dead is worse than being alive, but I still feel bad for Cole. I feel beyond bad. So far beyond bad I can’t begin to describe it. He wasn’t supposed to die so young. He had so many things he still wanted to do.

Needless to say, Cole will always be with me just like he said my friend would be. He’s with me all the time because I’m always thinking about him and looking for signs he might be around because I still believe in spirits.

A few months ago I woke early and saw a deer standing in our backyard for the first time in seventeen years. It stood there and looked at me. And I stood there and looked back at it. I couldn’t help but think it was Cole coming to pay a visit. The same has happened with a few other animals, too. (Not the skunk, Coley-Boy. I don’t think you’re a skunk.) I don’t know if Cole’s spirit is using these animals’ bodies to visit, but it makes me feel good to think it and that’s all that matters, isn’t it?

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