People who leave often talk about the 'dark night of the soul', a moment of spiritual void and darkness, a feeling of loss and loneliness and emptiness. I had this moment. It occurred when my Dad died. And it is something I cannot talk about, but I can probably write about it.
My Dad passed in August of 2018, right in the middle of my faith crisis. I had ceased believing, but I was still pretending. And here I was, standing at the head of my Dad's bed in the ICU with all of my siblings and my mom. We had removed him from life support and we were gathered to hold his hands and talk to him as he passed. I was running my fingers through his thinning salt & pepper hair as I watched the monitor and saw his respiration slow and the jagged line of his heart beat slowly flatten out. He was gone. And I remember, in that moment, wondering "Where has he gone? Where is he?" For the first time in my life, I did not know the answer to that question. I felt panic in my body. I had lost my unquestionable faith in an afterlife. If you had asked me only a couple of years prior, I would have found comfort in knowing he had passed through some veil and was in the loving embrace of his parents and siblings that had gone on before him. What a comfort that would have been in that moment! But that night, in that room, I did not know where he was and it caused me such anguish and emptiness. It was a heavy price to pay for not believing any more.
After he passed, we held one another and my siblings shared words of comfort with my mother, who had just lost her companion in life, her very best friend. "We will see him again", "He is still here, watching over us". I listened, but I could not bring myself to say those words myself. My siblings, while not all active in the church, had walked away with their belief in an afterlife and eternal families intact. Initially, I had also. Upon deciding I no longer believed in the church as a whole, for a long time, I clung to my belief in a loving Heavenly Father and a Saviour. I believed in the atonement and eternal families and some other tenets unique to the faith. But, with time and with further learning, I came to doubt these things as well. I had torn my faith down to, and beyond, the foundation. I didn't NOT believe, I just didn't know WHAT I believed - and that left me in limbo.
After he passed, we were all exhausted and we left the hospital; my brother and I went through a fast food drive thru (we had not eaten all day) and we went to our Motel 6, a hastily made reservation upon learning I had to pick up and fly to California that morning. I went to my room, alone, devoid of any modern-day comforts, and sat on the thin and worn bedspread that was riddled with cigarette burns...and I felt a numbness that I have not felt since. It was a numbness brought on by the shock of just losing my father, and the despair of not knowing what that meant. I was faced with the possibility of never seeing my Dad again. It is maybe the loneliest I have ever felt in my life. I occupied this space for weeks.
Dave did not make the rushed trip down to California. I was alone for a day or two as my siblings and I started planning and making the necessary arrangements for my mom. I would like to say that when he finally got there, it was hugs and support and sunshine, but it wasn't. The silent void that existed between us for so long when it came to spiritual matters was still there; it was palpable. I could not find comfort in his presence, because I knew he believed so differently than I did. I can't speak for him, but at the time, I was convinced any conversation about the pain and loneliness and uncertainty I was feeling would end in a testimony of the atonement and God's plan and an assurance that I would see my Dad again. I did not want to hear any of that. It was a really tough time for us, as a couple. We were NOT communicating. At times, we felt like strangers.
Herein lies the harm. To have a truth proclaimed to you, again and again, your entire life - and to BELIEVE it and ACT on it and TEACH it to your kids, to have it become as much a part of you as your right arm is, because you trust the organization proclaiming it to you...and then to learn that the very organization you trust is founded on dishonesty and deception...THAT is harm. It breaks people. It causes pain. It divides families. It leads to the dark night of the soul.
Today, I can't say that I know where my Dad is. I just can't possibly know. None of us can "know". What I DO know is that he is remembered with love and fondness and respect and reverence. He is not in pain. He has left a legacy of love, in his children and in all who knew him. Right now, this is enough for me.
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