afterlife Death and Dying dying feelings God guitars music Religion


How much time do I have left? If I could schedule the year, month, day, and time of my death what would it look like?

Thursday, January 27, 2045

My alarm goes off at 6:00 am and I reluctantly reach over and tap the alarm off button on my iPhone 21 Pro Max. It’s a cold wintry morning in south central Kentucky (I should’ve chosen a state further south, but I’ve said that about a thousand times) but it’ll be warm in the shower.

As I dry off I take stock of my nakedness one last time. I’ve chosen to leave this world wearing exactly what I had on when I first entered it. Before “Your Time to Die” came along there was no such thing as scheduling your own demise. Choosing what I’m not wearing was an easy decision.

It’s 8 o’clock and the smell of bacon frying makes me wonder if I’ll ever have breakfast again. There’s a lot of those kinds of wonderings in my head as I break three eggs into the skillet of bacon grease. Those breakfast cooking sounds; will I hear such sounds as that again after 8:00 pm this evening?

There’s only one way to know, I can’t ask anyone, Google still can’t tell us, and God seems to be silent on the matter, at least for now. I’ve been told you must have faith and believe that there is an afterlife. If there is such a thing, I’d like to think that bacon and eggs will be there too.

It’s noon and I relax with an old guitar, it’s the only thing I’m taking with me. If things are like what my Mother read in her Bible we’ll be transformed somehow. Does that mean we won’t have physical bodies? How am I supposed to play my guitar?

It’s 2:00 pm and I send out “Last Calls” on my old but reliable iMac. Those that gather are but a few, it’s not a festive event, but I’d like to think it is in an odd sort of way. I wonder if I’ll know what they’re thinking as I’m falling.

I’m enjoying my final glass of bourbon barrell moonshine and the pipe is empty. Although it’s a chilly 22 degrees outside, my insides are warmed just enough as I prepare myself for my final flight. I’ve stopped wondering. It’s time.

I’m being flown to a height of 1500 feet. Lying naked, ready for whatever awaits me. I’m slowly manuevered into position. At precisely 8:00 pm I’m asleep.

What happened after that I do not know.

afterlife Death dying heaven hell

The end?

It’s not so easy to understand what happens after you take your last breath. Most Christians believe that after you die you go to a place where God lives called Heaven, if you’re worthy, and if you’re not you’re destined to a place where Satan lives called Hell. Some believe there’s a place in the middle that holds those who need to be polished up a bit before they’re admitted into Heaven. I guess such a middle place as that isn’t needed for those bound to Hell.

I’m thinking about death because I lost my mother this past July and more recently an ex-wife that I was married to for 7 years. I suppose it happens to everyone, those living anyway, that when someone close to you, or someone you had a connection with dies, it causes an internal alarm to go off, a signal that the end is inevitable.

Death is a big intimidator, an unknown that you’ll never be able to discover until after it’s captured you. Can it even be known then? What if you don’t believe in God, Heaven, Satan, or Hell? Do those who don’t believe in an afterlife cease to be when they’re dead? And who’s to know if believers are rewarded or penalized. Is my Christian faith strong enough to make me unafraid of the Big Intimidator? It’s being put to the test now that’s for sure.

Life after death is an oxymoron.

Light at the end of the tunnel?