She lay dying on the bed; weak, frail, her already soft voice cut from her heart by her life of disappointment. The window was open; it was December, everyone was cold except her. Her petite form was skeletal now; a stroke, lungs destroyed by her husbands decades of smoking, and her current inability to move without help left her practically immobile. Every time you looked at her you wanted to cry for her. It was uncomfortable to the extreme to be in her home. I always hated going there. She was cold, through and through. The only thing she and I ever did together was to go see the movie "Alaska".
When she died, she said she saw angels come into the room. She wanted the window left open so they could get in. She wanted to feel cold so she could enjoy the warmth of heaven. She "saw" angels on her shoulder.
My Father, and my Uncles, who were witness to her death, saw the truth. They saw curtains blowing the drapes into the room, light reflecting off of them, giving the illusion of an angels wings. It was a sunny December day that she died.
My Uncle Rob, the richest of her sons, saw in her death the confirmation of his religious beliefs. He saw a woman who had struggled and sacrificed her entire life to bring up three boys, always wanting the best for them, never caring for herself. Her death confirmed gods existence for him.
My Uncle Pat, the black sheep of the family, a selfish, evil man, had his belief that god created us and then abandoned us, taking love with him, confirmed. That's all I have to say about him.
My Father, on the other hand, an Atheist, saw what I saw. He saw that there is no god. He saw three people desperately trying to find evidence for a delusion. That is why he told me what happened in that room. And that is why I am telling you this now.
god exists only because you want him to