“That’s…that’s different. I would want Sophia to be happy, no matter what, even if I weren’t the one to share her happiness,” he stammered. Slowly, he added, “I would be glad if she found another person that would make her happy, and who would be a good father to her…their children.”
“Exactly!” proclaimed Sandra, triumphantly. “So don’t you think that it should work the same way now that Sophia is the one who is gone?” Jobran couldn’t get away from her, but he refused to face her, as she continued, “Don’t you think she would feel the same way? Weren’t you two ‘soul mates,’ who felt the same about most everything?” He was now facing the two large bookshelves at the corner or the room, so he couldn’t retreat any farther.
Like a cornered animal, Jobran turned suddenly and hissed, “Look, what is your point? I’m not interested in dating, in relationships, in remarriage, or in having kids, OK?!? Can’t you get that through your goddam skull?!?” With a blistering edge to his voice, he added, “And right now, I’m not too interested in continuing relationships with the rest of my family, either!”
Sandra stopped short, hurt by the vehemence of his attack. She retreated to the chair by the table, and said softly, “I’m just trying to help, Jobe…,” and she used a napkin on the table to wipe tears from her eyes.
Jobran was immediately remorseful over his outburst, and said in a chastened voice, “Sorry. Guess I got carried away, Sanny.”
Taking her hand gently, he led her to the couch, and cleared a space for them both to sit down. Once she was sitting comfortably, Sandra reached in her shirt pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, sticking one in-between her teeth.
“You can’t smoke inside,” Jobran said, alarmed.
“I’m not smoking,” Sandra said, pretending to light up; she then took a deep drag on the unlit cigarette, and exhaled the breath slowly. “I quit, remember? But sometimes, I still need to just have the activity of smoking—even without the nicotine.” Jobran smiled, and they sat together in silence for a few minutes, as Sandra continued to “smoke” her cigarette.
Finally Sandra threw away her unsmoked cigarette into a trash can, and said, “Jobe, can’t you see that finding another person wouldn’t diminish or cheapen what you and Sophia shared? What the two of you had together will remain what it was, for always.”
“Give it a rest, Sandra, will you?” Jobran replied, testily.
“Not unless our parents come back from the grave with proof that one or another of us was adopted,” she responded, defiantly. In spite of himself, Jobran couldn’t stop a small smile from flashing momentarily on his face.
His face snapped back to its serious expression, however, and he said, “OK, let’s suppose that I did remarry, and have kids. What would happen after my new wife and I died? Let’s say that we went to Heaven—or Paradise, or wherever— and that we met up with Sophia. Now I would have to explain to Sophia, ‘Oh, by the way, Sophia, this is my new wife, and these are the kids I had with her. Sorry that you only had one husband—me—and that you didn’t have any kids, but maybe my new wife will let you stay with us, and kind of help out around our house. And don’t you worry; I’ll try to spend some ‘quality time’ with you whenever I can—after all, you were my first wife—even though obviously most of my attention will have to go to my new, complete family.’” Jobran waited for a response from Sandra which didn’t come, so he continued, “Wouldn’t Sophia think that my love for my second wife—whom I’d spent a long life with, and who was the mother of my children—would take precedence over my love for her? Wouldn’t Sophia feel ‘second-class’?”
Sandra threw up her hands and said, “Jobe, I don’t know; I’m the family atheist, remember? But if that happened, maybe the three of you could work things out, somehow.”
Firmly, Jobran said, “There’s nothing to work out, because there will never be another to take Sophia’s place in my life.”
In exasperation, Sophia said, “Well, shit, then; if you don’t want to go out with women, then go out with men! Go out to some gay bar and sleep with somebody different every night. I’d feel better if you were at least fucking somebody!”
Jobran made a face, and said, “That’s disgusting.”
“Hon, anything—even just a quickie form of sexual release—would be better than what you’ve got now!” Pleading with him, she went on, “You don’t even have anyone to hug when you’re feeling down, to kiss when you go off to work, to put an arm of encouragement around your shoulder, or to give you a back massage when you’re tired and sore.”
“If I need a massage that bad, I’ll hire a masseuse.”
“No you won’t, because you’re too goddam cheap!” she replied, completely frustrated. Desperately searching for something that would again register with him, she said, “Even if you don’t start dating, if you could just start to live a life again, that would be something. You’ve lost all interest in your teaching career, you’ve cut yourself off from your friends, and you seemingly have nothing that you want to do except stay around here all day and read your creepy books about spooks.” Her voice aching with the pain of deep concern, she almost shouted, “It’s almost as if you were the one that was dead!”
“I wish that I was the one that was dead,” he replied, in a flat voice.
“Why are you so afraid to enjoy anything about life? Not even you can believe that Sophia would think that you having a career again would constitute being ‘unfaithful’ to her. You can’t believe that Sophia would want you to be acting this way.”
Jobran thought carefully before he replied, “No, Sis, I know that Sophia wouldn’t want me to give up on all other things in my life.” Trying hard to make her understand, he said, “But I find that without her, all other activities are empty, meaningless; lacking any sense of joy. I enjoyed nearly everything about life while Sophia was here—I loved it because life was something that I could share with her. What point would there be in my sitting on a beach and looking at a beautiful sunset, now that Sophia isn’t there to see it with me? If I can’t gently hold her hand, kiss her cheek, touch my toes against hers in the sand, wrap my coat around her shoulders when it turns chilly, and massage her shoulders when she’s tired after a long day? If I can’t feel her body next to mine, in bed? If we can’t lay awake in each other’s arms all night, sharing our innermost thoughts?” He stood, as if lost in thought, then continued, “Things I never cared about previously suddenly had value to me when we could share them. I never went for walks on the beach on my own; I never spent hours preparing a special meal; I never went to the museum, or the zoo. But after I fell in love with Sophia, I did all of those things—and loved them—because they were things we could share, because her presence made everything ‘magical’ to me. But now that she’s gone, none of those things attract me any more.” Shaking his head sorrowfully, he added, “Frankly, I’m just not interested in the idea of living only for my own personal pleasure.”
Her voice growing increasingly desperate, Sandra said, “Well, fine then—live for others! Do volunteer work with the homeless, help in children’s hospitals, visit elderly people in rest homes, write letters to people in prison—anything besides just sitting around here all day!”
With a tone of finality, Jobran said, “I haven’t got time for that. I’ve got too much research to do.”
Leaping up, she said, “Research and study, study and research, that’s all you ever do! I swear, my jackass soon-to-be-ex-husband has a cousin that’s attending a theological seminary up north, and I bet he doesn’t study one-fourth as much about life after death as you do!”
Not budging an inch, Jobran shot back, “That’s because people studying theology are content to ‘have faith’ in life after death; they’re just taking at face value the traditions that were handed on to them from the past. But in my situation, that isn’t sufficient. It isn’t enough for me to ‘have faith’�
��I’ve got to know. I have to know with absolute certainty whether Sophia is still existing, and if so, what I have to do to be reunited with her!” His eyes had a wild expression in them, as Sandra stared at him incredulously.
Shaking her head, she said, “Are you sure you and I were born from the same parents?”
He laughed, relieving the tension, and said, “You were the one born first; you should know.” He then sat back down on the couch, and motioned for her to come back and sit next to him. She sat down, looking spent and exhausted. Jobran put his arm around her shoulder, and she leaned against him with a sigh of contentment, and said, “Well, you can’t say that I didn’t give it my best shot, can you?” He shook his head, and squeezed her with his outstretched arm.
After letting the moment last briefly, he said, “Look, Sanny; I don’t want you to think that I don’t appreciate—really appreciate—what you’re trying to do for me. You’re doing everything you can, just like the loving big sister that you’ve always been to me.” He hugged her, with both arms, and with genuine affection. She allowed herself to be hugged, without returning it.
“Fat lotta good it does me,” she said, dryly. “You’re just so goddam stubborn sometimes,” she added, causing him to laugh gently.
“Believe me, Sis; if there is ever anything you can do to help, I’ll call on you immediately.”
Turning to him, she said with a trembling voice, “I just wish there was something I could do! Jobe, I know how much pain you are feeling—you think I don’t, but I do—I know how deeply you are hurting, and I just want to do something, anything, to help you out of it!”
He shook his head, sadly. “The only thing that will help me out of it is being reunited with my Sophia, again. That single goal has to be the focus of my every thought, my every action.”
“Geez; you sound like a goddam machine.” After a moment, she said softly, “Jobe, you were sad for a long time after our parents died, but you eventually moved on, and got on with your life.”
“Well, you were the biggest part in keeping me going back then, getting me to focus on my studies and such, and I’m eternally grateful to you for that,” he said. “But frankly, that situation was a lot different. Yes, it was tragic that our parents died in a car wreck, and that they never got to retire, or to enjoy their ‘golden years.’ But on the other hand, they had lived a fairly long life, saw us both reach adulthood, and got to see Reyna born. And most importantly—and unlike Sophia’s case—they died together, so there was no period of separation, with one partner alone and pining after the other.” Jobran paused, as if considering whether or not to continue, then said, “And, although our parents had what most people would consider a ‘good’ marriage—that is, they didn’t openly fight with each other, take separate vacations, or cheat on each other sexually—you know as well as I do that they didn’t have the kind of closeness, of intimacy, that Sophia and I shared. Like many couples that have been together a long time, they had learned to coexist peacefully, and had adjusted their lives so that they meshed without conflict. Quite frankly, they probably could have been separated from each other without it causing them undue trauma.” With a sad voice, he concluded, “But in my case, with Sophia gone, it’s as if my life force itself were removed from me.”
Sandra nodded, and said with resignation in her voice, “Well, I guess there’s no changing your mind, is there?”
Jobran shook his head, and said, “I made a vow that…well, let’s just say that nothing is going to shake me from my course.”
Sandra looked at her watch and then stood up, and said, “At least you can’t say I didn’t try.”
Rising with her, he said, “I’d never say that.”
“Well, I guess I’d better go, and let you get back to your studying.”
“Yeah; I’m half an hour behind, now,” and he laughed, and headed toward the door.
“And now it’ll probably be another six months before I see you again, right?” she said, with genuine anguish in her voice.
Jobran laughed, then hugged her. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt if we started to make St. Patrick’s Day a ‘family celebration,’ right? I mean, we’ve got at least some Irish in us, right?”
Sandra smiled happily, and said, “That’s right! And then we can celebrate the Vernal Equinox—from which the Christians stole the idea of Easter—the Summer Solstice, Halloween, and all kinds of pagan holidays.” And they hugged again, fiercely.
Sandra continued hugging Jobran rightly, and said, “I don’t want to let you go; I’m afraid that if I do, I’ll never see you again.” With a tremor in her voice, she added, “I don’t want to have to say ‘goodbye.’”
Jobran said, gently, “There’s a bond between us, Sanny, that doesn’t depend upon our physical proximity to each other. We could be living in different countries, and not see each other for years, and that bond would still be there. For people with that kind of bond, there’s no such thing as saying ‘Goodbye’—there is only, ‘I’ll see you later.’”
“Probably a lot later, the way you are,” she said, finally breaking the hug. “But St. Pat’s Day is only five days away—and don’t think I’m letting you get out of that one! Since you sold your goddam car—and I still can’t believe you did that— I’ll come pick you up, and we’ll go to the park with the kids, or something.” Jobran nodded his head, and opened the door for her.
She sniffed the air, saying, “It’s cold, but it’s a pretty day. Sure you don’t want to open the windows and shades and smell it?” He smiled and shook his head, disapprovingly.
Arm-in-arm, they walked around the cottage back to the street where Sandra’s car was parked. As they arrived at her car, she suddenly got an idea, and said, “Say, what time do you go to work tonight?”
“Eight.”
“Look, no matter how hard you study, you’ve still gotta eat, right?” she said, to which he made no reply. Sandra continued, “Look, how about if I pick you up at 6:00, and we’ll go back and have pizza at my place? My treat. The kids would love to see you! Then we’ll drop you off at work afterwards; that’ll save you the bus trip, not to mention cooking and cleaning up for yourself—that way, you wouldn’t even lose an hour from your precious study time. How would that be?”
Jobran shakes his head, in disbelief. “And you say that I’m stubborn.” With a laugh, he adds, “6:30.”
“Deal!” she said, enthusiastically. She quickly kissed him on the cheek, then got into her car and started it up.
Jobran turned and was starting to walk down the path back to his cottage, when Sandra rolled down her side window, and called out, “Jobe!”
Jobran turned back, and said in pretended annoyance, “Now what is it?”
Sandra called out, “If and when you do finally see Sophia again, tell her that her sister-in-law says ‘Hey!’ and that I miss her too!”
Jobran smiled and waved, then continued back to his cottage, as Sandra screeched her tires while taking off.
6
“GO YE THEREFORE”
(Matthew 28:19)
Jobran’s Journal
It’s been a long time since I’ve poured out my thoughts in writing—too long.
Or to be more precise, it’s been ever since just after Sophia’s death. Then, I poured out my thoughts into this computer, hoping to find some answers, or find some resolution to the questions I had. I eventually came to the decision that caused me to embark on this nine-month journey (so far).
And the same kind of motivation has brought me here; I seem to be at a turning point in my quest. I feel that I have nowhere to turn, and that once again, I’m at the end of my rope.
But the difference this time, is that formerly I ended up with a feeling of intellectual excitement, of anticipation; I truly believed that—if I just worked hard enough, if I were dedicated enough—I truly could find the a
nswers I sought.
But now, in spite of all of my exhausting work, I feel I’m right back where I started: I don’t know what—if anything—happens to us after death; I don’t know whether I will—or even can—be reunited with my beloved after I die.
My initial optimism seems laughable to me now. I thought that it was just a matter of keeping an open mind, and studying with intensity that perhaps no one else had ever had the motivation to match, that would prove decisive in the end.
I thought that the question of life after death—although pronounced as supremely difficult by many of the world’s greatest thinkers, throughout history—would eventually open itself up to me.
But it hasn’t.
Yes, I’ve learned a tremendous amount about what all of the various religious traditions teach about life after death; but in the end, I’m more uncertain than ever about what is true.
Religious apologists often claim that, “the fact that virtually every nation and people in the world has some form of belief in life after death, demonstrates that life after death does in fact exist.” I myself accepted that argument myself at one time; but I can’t accept it any more, now that I’ve looked into the matter much more thoroughly.
I think that the attempt of teachers of “comparative religion,” as well as people such as Aldous Huxley who try and find a “Perennial Philosophy” that is running through all of the eastern and western religious traditions, is fatally flawed; there is just too much in them that is irreconcilable. In order to try and make them seem consistent, you must deny or minimize the fundamental differences between all religions. For example, the traditional monotheistic notion of God as taught in the Judeo/Christian/Islamic/Sikh tradition is absent from the religious beliefs of at least one-third to one-half of the world; Buddhism, Jainism, Taoism, and Confucianism don’t even use the word “God” or any synonym. “Salvation” for a Christian or Muslim means to live forever as a personal being, in continuity from one’s earthly life; but for Hindus and Buddhists, it means to be absorbed into the transcendent reality, and to lose one’s individual identity and memory.
Beyond Heaven and Earth Page 19