What Happens When You Die

This is something I have thought about all my life.

I grew up Jewish, and of course, there was no question on whether or not God existed at that time in my life. I attended Sunday school and went to the occasional Friday night service(was Reformed). I never really thought about whether or not there was a God because it really was not a big part of my life, and religion wasn't a huge deal in my family. At that young age, the most important things in my life were Saturday morning cartoons, Star Wars, GI Joe, Transformers, and baseball cards. The rather non-religious upbringing I had probably helped bring the doubts I had sooner than they would have if I had grown up in a very religious household.

I remember the time I first realized what death actually was. I was about 5 at the time. I panicked, and my mom and I believe my grandmother or aunt had to comfort me. I had a few outbursts like this, and I think the last one I had was when I was 8. Of course, the answer they gave me was there was a heaven, and that death is not truly the end, and I bought it at the time, but I was still nervous. After all, was there really a heaven?

Another thing that happened to me at the age of five was a bad dream. This dream changed my childhood. I remember in the dream, I was going up the stairs of the house we lived in at the time. It was a 2 story duplex. When I got up there, there was a dog. It was supposed to be my grandparents dog Benny, but it wasn't, and it growled at me. If I was to describe it now, I would say it looked like a large grey stocky wolf. I know it does not sound bad, but I became afraid of dark places after that. The dark scared me. There could be monsters lurking around that dark corner, and they could get me, and kill me. Over the years, this fear went away. I still have the occasional fear of what may be lurking in the shadows, but I am always confident that it is not something covered in scales with blood dripping off its fangs.

My mom says that I was a very happy baby, and I was very talkative when I was growing up. Then there was a change, and I became quiet and shy, which is how I am today. I often wonder if it is because of these fears.

Yes, I fear death. I fear both how I will die, and what happens the moment after I die.

So what happens when you die? Even though my belief in God is all but gone, I still find myself in a position where I refuse to believe that death is the ultimate end.

When I was 6, my great-grandmother died. I remember seeing my mom on her bed holding a picture of her and crying. I was sad, of course, but I don't remember crying. I do remember her funeral. She was 90. My mom says that since she was close to my father(she was his grandmother), she was also close to my mom and just adored me. I heard that she died with a smile on her face.

Shortly after her death, I woke up in the middle of the night. I am a heavy sleeper. I looked towards the foot of my bed, and saw her standing there. I could see her face a little bit. It was shadowed, since the hall light was on behind her. It was always on at night. She smiled at me, and walked away. I still believe that this was the last time I saw her. Of course, as a kid, it made me realize that ghosts were real! Looking back on it though, I am comforted by the visit.

Over the years, there have been a lot of times where I have felt that there were eyes on me, but no one was around. Empty rooms, outside, etc. It did not matter. Occasionally, I would feel that I was being watched. Also, there have been times where out of the corner of my eye, I could see someone, and when I looked, there was no one there. Paranoia? Maybe.

Once when I was 18 and living in Salem, I was home alone for about a week. Uneventful week. I had just recently moved to Oregon, was bored, etc. It was early morning, and I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth. I was not tired at all.

This house was a duplex on a hill. There was an area downstairs where the master bedroom, another bathroom, and the garage was. The other side of the duplex was not over our section at all. The bathroom I was in was by the front door. There was the hallway leading back to where the living room and kitchen were, and there was another small room across the way. We kept the TV in there.

So there I was, brushing my teeth, and I saw something. Moving down the hall was a white, whispy form. It seemed rather tall, and I did not see it for very long. It had been moving in the direction of the front door/tv room. I froze, and had no idea if I had just seen what I thought I saw. I decided to say something, something I was once told to say to something that could be described as a ghost. I was told a direct command could work, so I used one.

"Go away."

I said it in a loud, stern voice.

What happened next is probably one of the most frightening things I have ever experienced.

A very loud creaking sound came from the TV room. Silence before, and silence afterwards. No other sound was made except for the sound of wood being stepped on by something very heavy. I panicked. I used what courage I had left, got into my room, closed the door, and forced myself to go to sleep.

My mom came home later that day, and of course, thought I was full of shit. I tried duplicating that sound later on, but was never able to. We moved 5 months later.

Experiences like that, and other things told to me by people I know and trust make me wonder if death is truly not the final end. But what happens? Do you drift around, watching the living, or is there a place you can go? And can you live again?

I have known a person that claimed she can remember picked out her parents. I tended to believe her, since she was not a bullshitter and I have heard this before. I knew one person who said he could see spirits and saw a child taken into a place he would describe as heaven. Again, another person who was not a bullshitter. I have heard stories of people describing past lives, and having the things they see in their mind verified as real.

I will post more thoughts on this at a later date.