I hate death. It's the final enemy. The older I get the more I think this way. I hope in the future people really can live to be 160 years old with their minds who can be productive in their final years. I hope someday that if we have an incurable disease we can be frozen and later revived and then healed so we can see the future. I hate the fact that I'll never see what human beings have done on this planet in 100 or 200 or 1,000 years. I hate the fact that I'll never see my Dad again. I hate it. My stepfather of about eighteen years has just been given two weeks to live. Maybe the doctors are wrong. But I'm here in Indiana. He and my Mom are in Nevada. I may never talk to him again. He's only responding with touch right now. He's 80 years old.
We are mere mortals. This life is all we have. It's mere delusion to think otherwise. But knowing the truth hurts. What would actually hurt more is to think there is a God who is punishing him with death because of what some curious bastards did in some Garden. What would actually hurt more is to think he'll end up in hell. Since he is a liberal Presbyterian some Christians think he will. I raise my middle finger to people like that and to their concept of God. And I raise it to death itself.
