I remember a weird moment that happened after my dad died. My mother had called me in hysterics and told me my dad was dead, had died in his sleep. I went to his house and it was true. He looked like he was sleeping, but his lips were a frosty blue and his face was the color of dusty miller. I remember not feeling anything at first and then having intense waves of grief and fear and sadness break over me, over and over again.
I went outside and shouted, then threw up. My dad had been sick for so long, I stopped being afraid of him dying. I was so used to him being sick it hadn't worried me when he told me a few days before that he was having problems breathing in the mornings. He was dying for over a decade and the decline was so slow that his death was a complete shock.
I remember being outside and for the first time in my life and the last time since, I looked up and I really wanted to feel something. I wanted to feel that god feeling people talked about, and I wanted to feel it right then. I stood there long enough to end up surrounded by my family and I didn't feel a damn thing.
I realized later that I wasn't really expecting god to bestow me with his lovey glow, I just felt really scared about the end of my father's life and I wanted there to be a god because a god meant an afterlife than an afterlife meant my dad wasn't gone forever. Hangin' on clouds in heaven or fact checking the internet in hell, I would see him again, talk to him again, hug him again.
That's pretty much the closest I've ever come in my life to belieiving in god.