religion, another's form of closure

When I was finally told by a team of physicians that I was terminally ill, I felt nothingness. I did not cry, but listened intently all while I know that my mind had already begun the process of compartmentalizing. Each fragment had its place as did every analogy, oxymoron, simile, metaphor...

I never planned it, the compartmentalizing. It happened and possibly it was my way, the only way, that kept me from falling over and realising the impact, the life changing everything that had already begun as soon as I heard the word T E R M I N A L.

I bring this up only because I had a compartment for my spirituality and a place for religion, just never one for every other's faith, viewpoint and the numerous thoughts and literature I have been handed showing me the way. Me knowing so long ago it was not MY way, it was their way. A way that brought them some type of understanding under their G-D that I would be a part of the afterlife.

So today, when more literature and another article 'showing me the way' was placed in the mailbox, addressed personally to me and notes adorning several pages, highlighting their comments and their for seen importance of what I was reading, I stopped.

I thought for a moment over a cigarette that this was their way of accepting my death, and their own mortality. It is an unspoken but obviously important rule that if my beliefs match the beliefs of the, on this occasion I am betting on a Fundamentalist Christian providing me the information, then they personally can rest and find peace at a time when instead of forwarding religious jargon that has its place with my bleeding stomach lining (sender still a mystery)...

...I would much rather sit down with a cup of green tea and a chocolate brownie, pop a couple Narco's and a Marinol and talk about how shitty some of this life 'stuff' can actually be.