Those of you who have been with me from the start know that I had a life altering summer. What happened then led me to doubt my faith, the faith I grew up with as a part of a catholic family. I realized that I had never really thought about those issues, and when I did it all seemed so unlikely. Why would a God that is said to be kind and loving allow there to be misery, hardship and death on earth?
I know that this is a famous problem, but it doesn't get real until you're faced with such a situation yourself. At first I couldn't forgive God for killing my cousin, but in time I even started to lose my faith in His existence. It's not easy to give up something you've carried with you ever since you were born, but I don't see another way out. I just can't go back to believing the way I did before all this happened, it opened my eyes to another reality, for better or worse.
The thing I miss the most is of course the idea of believing in something. I can no longer imagine a heaven after death, just a big emptiness, and I realize how comforting it can be to believe. Dad doesn't talk about it but I know he's heartbroken over this. I feel as if I have let him down, but then I remember everything he told me when I was a child and it all seems like a collection of lies. It didn't matter how much I wanted to believe in God's goodness, he took my cousin away from me anyway, and none of the answers my family gave me were enough, they just made me want to ask more questions.
I still carry the cross around my neck, but it feels like a charade. I'm true to my heritage but not to myself, and that still hurts.