So I’m at my parent’s home for the holidays. And I decided to rummage through a bunch of the old stuff I had packed away in my room on a whim. Something that I will very readily admit is that I’m one of the worst pack rats you’ll ever meet. I can’t throw away anything with any perceived morsel of sentimental value.
Case in point: in a random shoe box gathering dust in my bedroom are a bunch of name tags among other things. These name tags didn’t actually belong to me; they were my friends’ and I had decided to take and wear all of them at some point during an outing we once had. Don’t ask me why, I was 13 or something and a goofy and awkward child.
Among these name tags is one that belonged to my friend, “MATTHEW”. Why he wrote his name in all capitals is beyond me, but I can’t help but imagine him introducing himself as “MATTHEW!!!”. That’s right, with 3 exclamation points. He was a pretty goofy guy too, you see.
The greatest tragedy of this post is that I have to write in the past tense..
Some people know that I’m a former Christian turned atheist. Most of them question why. While most of it stems from my disbelief in the existence of some omnipotent being due to a complete lack of evidence for such a claim, that would merely make me an agnostic. Or at least, just healthily skeptical. I’m neither of those things; I’m fully convinced that God does not exist.
If God exists, and if “He” were omnipotent and as loving as I am told “He” is, Matt should not have died in a car accident when he was only 21 years old. He was no “sinner”; in fact, he was the closest thing to a saint that I knew, and the most devout Christian that I have ever met. Any arguments that “everything happens for a reason” and that “God works in mysterious ways” is completely and utter bullshit. I dare anyone to look at his family, at his mother, and say that God’s “mysterious ways” are fair or just in any way.
But I’ll admit, there is comfort in being a believer. It’s incredibly comforting to believe that you will be able to see your loved ones again in the future. That is, unfortunately, a luxury I forfeited.
I know I’ll never see Matt again.
I know that all I have left of him are my memories.
Every time I think of that, I weep. I want to believe otherwise, I want to believe that I can meet him again so badly. I want to lazily kill time on Saturday afternoons with him again. I really want to ridicule his unfortunate choice in post-secondary education again. But I know that moment will never come.
So yeah. Maybe being a pack rat isn’t such a bad thing sometimes.