Chapter 1: The Scene Unfolds

The immediate family gathered solemnly in a row of wooden folding chairs, staring at a large, rectangular grave that had been dug six feet deep. Just in front of this grave stood The Podium— a well-worn piece of heavy wood that had hosted countless fire-and-brimstone sermons. It was adorned with an open Holy Bible, strategically placed to highlight today’s selected passages. The pastor, standing there, seemed overly cheerful and rather self-satisfied, a detail that set off my internal alarms. It was clear this was going to be even more uncomfortable than I had anticipated.

As he launched into his long-winded sermon, I found my mind wandering, a tendency I often have in such situations. It wasn’t intentional; I simply drifted away, staring into the distance until something jolted me back to reality. That something was a phrase that caught my attention:

“…don’t ya’ll say he went to Hell. That’s not for us to decide. We ALL know how Terry was in life. But that doesn’t mean he’s burning in Hell right now.”

What was happening? I glanced around to see if anyone else was taken aback, but everyone else appeared unfazed. Was I imagining things, or was this pastor actually disparaging my father at his own funeral? Who had suggested he was destined for Hell? My mind raced with the need to confront them, yet I remained silent, noticing that no one else seemed disturbed.

Looking to my left, I caught sight of my sister and brother. Their expressions mirrored my confusion, shifting through disbelief to growing indignation. The pastor continued his diatribe, labeling my father without clarifying his intent, hinting that he was somehow lacking in virtue. Then, he presented his 'proof' that my father wasn’t condemned to Hell: a guest book signature from a church potluck dinner fifteen years ago. This flimsy evidence, according to him, indicated that my father had at some point believed in God, thus granting him an eternal ticket to Heaven.

Understanding began to dawn when I noticed my father’s aunt, who had raised him, looking quite pleased. She was nodding and smiling, as if this entire sermon was tailored for her benefit, rather than for my father or any of us grieving children. Her fear of her adopted son being condemned to Hell had prompted this spectacle, stemming from her concern about how his fate would reflect on her reputation in her community.

I can’t help but chuckle now, picturing her and the pastor brainstorming how to 'save' him. The strategy of citing a long-ago church attendance to counter a lifetime of atheism was bold—let's see how that turns out.

Out of respect for my father, we endured the rest of his ramblings about potlucks and damnation. The pastor concluded his speech and made his rounds to shake hands, accepting thanks as if he had ferried my father to the afterlife. My siblings and I turned our backs on him, exchanging glances filled with unspoken words as we exited the cemetery.

The unvarnished truth is that our father was not a great parent—he often failed to provide for us, and his absence left us heartbroken more times than I can count. He died unexpectedly, and the circumstances surrounding his death were far from glamorous, marked by a cocaine-induced heart attack at the age of 54.

However, for all his shortcomings, he was our father—the only one we had ever known. We loved him despite everything, as he was a good friend to us. He had a remarkable ability to connect with others, was a gifted storyteller, and had a knack for making people laugh. His good nature was evident to all; he rarely displayed anger, perhaps due to his fondness for marijuana.

He wasn’t perfect, but he deserved a heartfelt tribute at his funeral. I wanted to honor him for the joy he brought to our lives and the love he gave. I wished I could travel back in time to share stories of his pride in his first grandchild or those quirky calls about Bob Ross. I wanted to recount how he taught me to ride a bike and showed compassion even to the smallest creatures, believing they deserved their lives too.

But I realize now, I can share these memories and reflections here.

If you found this essay resonant or meaningful, I would appreciate your support through a follow or share. Thank you for taking the time to read my story.

-Layla

Chapter 2: Exploring the Aftermath

In the first video, "Are religious funerals 'empty and platitudinous'? Ian Dunt & Andy Bannister," the speakers delve into the emotional and social nuances of religious funerals, questioning their sincerity and significance.

The second video, "The Christian Atheist: No Compromise #30: 'The Funeral of the Great Myth'," examines the clash between belief systems during funerals and the implications for those navigating mixed faith backgrounds.