Sure, I can write about the neighborhood. The boys and girls running around and playing until dark was coming. Carefree and no worries about strangers lurking in the shadows. They were there. They just hadn't visited our lives yet.No, I will write about the night my mom was done. She packed all of us kids up. Put us into the car. We were leaving. The sins of the father had pushed her to her breaking point. She was leaving him there in that big, 4 bedroom house, and taking us to go live with her parents.My sister has the clearest memories of this. I do not remember it at all. I know later, once school was done, we would move down to Allentown, Pennsylvania, to live with mom's sister and her husband and family. My aunt and uncle and their 4 kids. That period of time I have clear, distinct memories.Leaving. And then returning in the middle of the night. My dad mopping the kitchen floor in his underwear. He had dropped/broken/spilled something and was cleaning it up. I have no recall on. You’ve spent your entire life searching for wisdom. You’ve studied religion, magick, psychology, all of it. You killed your belief in god long before you ever got sick. When you faced that darkness you knew you were the only one there and that you couldn’t answer your own prayer.”Me: “Wait a minute, You’re saying I’m mad at myself?”Friend: “Yes.”I felt the truth of his words and it was like he had run me through with a sword. I was speechless. It took me a couple of days to process what he had told me. He was in fact, correct. In my heart, I had killed God. Nobody is home or on the throne.It’s a liberating, yet lonely thought. All my life, I have been told of a loving Father which is an image I clung to as I never had one. The Christian faith is burned deep into my soul/mind and even though I have no “faith” I still find comfort in it’s familiarity. I’m also Heathen and find comfort in the sagas of my ancestors and the images of Freyja, sweet Sunna, and Hel. The Disir I adore. What’s.
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