On Saturday, we shoved my atheist father between two jumbo car seats in the back of our Jeep and headed to my husband’s parents’ house for a boisterous Passover seder.
Best Moment of the Seder: Singing “There’s No Seder Like Our Seder” to the tune of “There’s no business Like Show Business.”
Worst Moment: “When a 4 1/2 year-old instructed me how to pronounce, “Haggadah.” Look, if I went to Hebrew School, I would so know too. Plus, she jumped in so damn quickly. I’m sure I would have figured it out.
On the way home, my daughters, Dylan and Summer, drifted off somewhere near exit 6 on the Jersey Turnpike and the conversation turned to the light and breezy topic of GOD.
I asked my father if he believes in God or a Higher Power. He does not.
I asked him if he believes in reincarnation. He does not.
I asked him if believes we reconnect with our loved ones in some kind of afterlife. He does not.
He feels that we have one life and then that’s IT. DONE. And he’s actually comforted by this thought. He’s satisfied to play his minuscule part in the history of evolution.
Jeez Dad, way to bum a girl out.
Wait… I’ve got it! What about the white light? People, who have near death experiences, always talk about that comforting, peaceful white light. That must signify a heaven, an afterlife, the path to enlightenment… something!
“Maybe it’s just peaceful and comforting to die, ” my dad responds.
It’s kind of dark out on this highway and this guy is really spooking me out.
I respect his opinion but I just can’t accept it. We are such emotional, connected beings. We love so intensely. We feel so much. We are so draw to certain people in our lives. I just believe that someday my soul (minus the poochy, saggy post babies’ belly and forehead wrinkles) will reconnect with the souls of my loved ones.
In future spiritual realms, will my soul be hanging with my bitter, curmudgeon building superintendent Kent who believes every apartment problem can be fixed with some tinfoil and a McDonalds’ plastic tray? No way.
Will I be swaying, like I’m in some kind of Corona Lite ad, on an eternal hammock by the ocean with my husband? I hope so.
Will I be googling ex-boyfriends, 3-thousand years from now, just to see what they’re up to and if they still have hair? I’m so sure.
I really hope they have cafe mochas and google in the afterlife. And sushi. And Project Runway. On Bravo or Lifetime. I’m flexible like that.
Later that night, we returned to New York City and put the girls to bed.
My dad, who was staying the night, came over to me and said, “You know, I really hope you’re right.”
Me too Dad. Me too.
mama bird notes
When you think of a Higher Power, do you think of Land’s End? No? Ok, me neither. But they do have some cute kid’s stuff. Click on drooling over this to read more.
Do you have a Blackberry baby? If yes, click on NYC Moms Blog to read about my “youngest child.”