Death is perhaps life's harshest lesson, and yet it's one that's only ever learnt
by the non-religious.
The religious grieve, of course, but they ultimately see death as an illusion – as
a gateway to another place, be it Heaven, Aaru, Nirvana or Valhalla, whereas the non-religious,
to quote Hemant Mehta, "understand the finality of death"; we see death for what it is…
death; the final and permanent ending of our existence.
But truth always comes at a price, and in this case it's heavy.
Unlike the religious, who can soothe their grief with delusions of grandeur, and who're
convinced they must only find a way to say 'goodbye for now', we must soothe our
grief with science, art and philosophy, and find a way to say 'goodbye forever'.
Now I'm no expert on death, but I nevertheless want to give you my perspective on the subject
in the hope that it'll one day help you.
Or more accurately, both I and the vibrant YouTuber, Rachel Oates, want to this.
This, is Greif Without Belief: How to Deal with Death as an Atheist.
In dealing with death we're really dealing with two relevant but distinct facts; the
first is our own demise, and the second is that of our loved ones.
Let's start with our own.
The realisation that we are going to die – that our consciousness and all of our memories
will one day permanently cease to exist, is absolutely terrifying, and it's meant to
be!
We have distinctly evolved to avoid and fear death, and so it's no surprise that we don't
want to relinquish all that we are.
As someone who's never been religious, I was once terrified by death, and so I can
only imagine that for those of you who used to have comforting delusions, that death is
all the more scarier.
In fact, this reminds me of an analogy that I used within my collaboration with Genetically
Modified Skeptic; if you were brought up to believe that death is an illusion and that
you'll live forever in paradise, then you were brought up to believe that you'd won
the lottery, and only now, after planning your whole life on the assumption you're
rich, have you found out that you're poor.
While you haven't lost anything physical, you have lost something psychological: you've
lost, to be perhaps a bit blunt; the perfection of narcissism that comes with religion – the
idea that everything is created with you in mind, and that you'll never die.
But as for fearing death itself, I promise you that it's irrational.
The evidence overwhelming indicates that you've got absolutely nothing to worry about.
Of course, the process of dying might unfortunately be horrendous, but that's the price of life…
death itself, however, need not scare you.
It's often said that dying is like going to sleep for a very long time, but, if I'm
brutally honest, I've always found this rhetoric terrifying, boring, and above all,
simply not true…
sleep is a state of altered consciousness and inhibited sensory activity, whereas death
is the absence of consciousness and sensory activity.
Being dead is not like being asleep, and we don't have to experience death to know this.
But rant aside; I think that Mark Twain perhaps put best why we ought not fear death.
He once remarked that 'I do not fear death.
I had been dead for billions and billions of years before I was born, and had not suffered
the slightest inconvenience from it.'
Of course, this isn't technically true, because a prerequisite of death is that one
must've previous been alive, but the essence is true.
Your consciousness and memories did not exist before your birth, and you did not suffer
the slightest inconvenience from it, and so in death, when you consciousness and memories
evaporate, it'll almost certainly be the same.
You really need not fear death.
So that's my primary thoughts regarding my own death, and for what it's worth I
hope you got something out of it, but in case you didn't, here's Rachel to give you
hers: As an atheist obviously I don't believe in an afterlife, so to me that makes this
life all the more important and meaningful.
It's our one and only life, it's our only opportunity, and I believe that we should
make the most of that, and enjoy that to the fullest.
Now I don't really want to put too much of a downer on things, but this idea of like
death and grief is a pretty serious topic because of that I do want to talk about something
quite serious and it's a bit of a personal story and it's a difficult one to tell, but
I feel it's an important one to kind of illustrate where I'm coming from with this view and it's
about something that was important in helping me become the person I am today and also been
helping me form a lot of the views and opinions I have today.
And I know Stephen was all lovely before he's like oh I'm a vibrant person and now I feel
like I could have had a big downer on that but I think is an important thing to talk
about.
I spent quite a few of the last few years feeling quite sad and I've had to take some
form of like antidepressant or anti-anxiety medication for the last like five or so years.
I still take them today now but, just like you know, it took a lot of time to find the
right one that worked for me and I tried out a few different ones and I've seen counsellors
and I've worked through a lot of things and I'm in a really really great place today.
But at some of lowest points over the last few years… let's just say death or more
specifically my own death with some things that I thought a hell of a lot about.
When you're in a bad place like that, and when you're not really happy, and when you
consider that the alternative is this eternity of nothingness that sounds very very appealing.
That's like everything you want, you know, like Stephen just said, like in death your
consciousness and your memories they don't exist – and further than that your feelings
don't exist.
Your anxieties don't exist.
None of it.
And you can argue well so that means you know no more happiness but at the same time it
also means no more hurt and at the time that sounded so appealing, and not to sound horrible
but I kind of like made peace with this idea of dying, like it wouldn't…
like it would be okay. it wouldn't be so bad.
like there was nothing to be scared of.
As if my own death wasn't something to fear anymore – right?
It was actually, you know, it seemed like a pretty appealing solution.
But it's only when one of my counsellors started asking me all these questions that I began
to kind of change my mind about that.
She got me to think about my best friend at the time, James, and I still love James to
bits - he's an amazing person.
But she started asking me how I would feel if James started saying the same things, and
if he started coming to these conclusions, and at first I was just like oh well if he's
made peace with it and he thinks it's best for him then, you know, why does my opinion
matter?
And then she was like okay that's fine good for James he's sorted but now you're left
without him - how do you feel?
And that… that was that was like when it hit me, you know, something that should have
been so obvious just suddenly became clear to me.
It's like, just cuz one life is over doesn't mean the world suddenly ends…
That was something I hadn't really thought about before - like if I died I wouldn't have
a consciousness anymore, but other people still do.
If I died I might not have memories anymore, but other people still do.
I might not have to face the consequences of anything actions but other people still
do.
And it was like at that point that I realized that while I might not feel my own death,
in my situation, it wasn't fair to other people the people I cared about, people I loved,
it wasn't fair to them for me to kind of wish my death along sooner.
And so what I guess I'm trying to say is that now I try and live my life knowing that when
I do eventually die, because let's be honest, it happens to everyone, when I do eventually
die, whether it's by accident, or I get ill or I get old… when that happens it's not
something I should be scared of, because I'm doing everything I can to make the most of
my life now, and be happy now, and to make other people happy now, and I'm doing everything
that I can to leave behind something awesome while I can.
However, now I'm also aware that when I do eventually die it's gonna be difficult for
people who are left behind, in one way or another, maybe some people will miss me, maybe
some people will be happy I'm gone maybe, some people both just be like oh god now I
have another body to deal, with you know like Undertaker's or whatever, but the point is
I've realized that while my death isn't something for me to fear, it's still gonna have an effect
on other people in one way or another.
I think that everyone can get something out of living this life to the fullest.
However, that said, I think that as an atheist we do kind of appreciate it a little bit more.
It does feel a little bit more real.
It does feel a little bit more important.
We do take kind of this life a little bit more seriously because we're not just waiting
for the next step.
We realise that this is it.
This is all we have.
And also I think it's kind of nice that we can live without fear as well, because we're
not worried about what's gonna happen after we just know we have to enjoy it now.
Cheers Rachel, very insightful and much appreciated.
So now that we've addressed our own demise, let's move on to what is in my opinion the
harder fact of death… the demise our loved ones.
Now since the topic of death is personal, I feel it's only right that I speak about
it personally – plus, this will illustrate that for all my use of rationality, I am yet
still human.
A few months ago, my hero and grandfather, Tone Mills, who I loved very much, sadly passed
away due to metastasized prostate cancer, and during the months leading to his death
me and his loved ones had to witness him slowly but surely loose his dignity, memory, sanity,
and hope, until there was nothing left but a cold and lifeless husk…
Truly, it was a ghastly experience, but it's unfortunately not a rare one.
Since cancer is the second leading cause of death, it's very likely that you too have
either had this experience, or sadly one day will.
And, just as a side note, please know that you're not alone – reach out to people,
even if it's just on a forum or through the comment section on this video – you
really are not alone.
Now I'm very fortunate, in the fact that a considerable proportion of my family are
non-religious, and so I didn't feel alone – I had people around me that also acknowledged
that they've had their last ever conversation with Tone, and that they will never see him
again.
And this helped me, a lot.
My religious family, however, while of course grieving, took comfort in what is to me meaningless
drivel.
They told me that 'he's looking down on you with pride', and that 'you'll be
reunited with him one day'.
One family member even told me that 'he's up there with his old pet donkey'…
I mean, just how gullible can you get?
I know that we're a stupid ape, but this just never ceases to surprise me!
And yes, my grandfather used to have a pet donkey…
Anyhow, as part of my grieving process, I reflected long and hard about the finality
of his death, and it led me to write the following, which I'd like to share for a reason that
I'll explain afterwards: "After kicking cancer's ass for years, telling everybody
that he's got radioactive balls, and smiling throughout, Tone has unfortunately lost his
battle… and we have lost a light that will forever darken the world.
And I have lost the greatest man that I have ever known.
Still, the lessons he taught me shine through in this very moment, for I know that because
he shaped so many of us with his kindness, decency and love, he lives on through us – not
consciously of course, but through the parts of us that he shaped and inspired – and
so, in a very real sense, he's gone but not gone.
And I don't know about you, but I will forever recognise the parts of me he shaped, and smile
each and every time I do.
I will miss you Granddad, and I will always love you."
Now I don't mean to drop an emotional bomb on you, but this is death we're dealing
with, and to address it with anything but emotion simply won't do.
Anyhow, the reason that I'm sharing this with you is because it's true.
Marcus Aurelius once said that "What we do in life echoes in eternity", and just
as my grandfather echoes through me, so too do your deceased loved ones echo through you.
The bricks of your foundation still bear their finger prints.
We may not live forever, but our actions and influence long outlive our consciousness.
This realisation have me great comfort, and it inspired me to search for similar reflections
on death that are equally true, and in my search I was fortunate enough to find an essay
by Aaron Freeman called 'An Eulogy From A Physicist'.
Now I'm not going to read the whole thing, but I'll read enough to give you the gist,
and I'll leave a link to the whole essay within the description.
"You want a physicist to speak at your funeral.
You want the physicist to talk to your grieving family about the conservation of energy, so
they will understand that your energy has not died.
You want the physicist to remind your sobbing mother about the first law of thermodynamics;
that no energy gets created in the universe, and none is destroyed.
You want your mother to know that all your energy, every vibration, every Btu of heat,
every wave of every particle that was her beloved child remains with her in this world.
You want the physicist to tell your weeping father that amid energies of the cosmos, you
gave as good as you got."
And so that's my primary thoughts regarding the death of my loved ones… it's no heaven,
granted, but unlike the false promise of heaven, it's true.
Anyhow, here's Rachel once again to give us her views: So I'm not quite as good with
words as Stephen is.
Not quite as articulate.
But Stephen's line just now about how 'the bricks of your foundation still bear their
fingerprints' really stuck with me, and I think it perfectly sums up everything that
I want to talk about here, and I think it's a wonderful little statement that really does
mean a lot.
And also it sounds way better than anything I could come up with, but on the subject of
dealing with grief and death of other people you love, I've never met my Granddads – they
both died a long time before I was born, and a part of me growing up, and a part of me
even now, worries that I missed out on something there.
I would have loved to have had a granddad.
I saw friends, and I still see them today, talking about their granddad's and how great
they are and how brilliant they are.
I see people's granddad's on TV and I'm like I wish I'd had that – I wanted to experience
that.
So for a long time I kind of felt a lot of resentment that, you know, death had taken
away something from me before I even experienced it - it just did not seem fair.
That said, when I was younger my family always used to tell me how much alike I was to one
of my granddads in particular.
They'd always be like 'oh, she's just like him' and things like that, and it took me
a long time to realize that that wasn't because I was some like ghostly reincarnation of him..
but that was because my family never let his memory go.
My sister taught me how to fold paper airplanes just like he taught her.
My uncle taught me to play cards and we'd gamble with chocolate coins, just like he
used to with his dad when he was younger.
I picked up the same sense of humour, and the same kind of style of telling stupid jokes,
and stories, because even years after he was gone my family would still share his jokes
and the stories he used to tell, and I picked that up - and I think that just goes to show
that even after someone's gone, even if you've never met them, they can have an incredible
impact on who you are.
And of course the family I knew personally and lost had an even bigger impact on me.
I lost both my grandmother's within a year of each other when I was growing up, and that
was a really really hard time.
Especially losing my granny who I was really really close with, and to this day she's still
one of the most amazing people I've ever met.
Even though I only knew them for seven, eight, nine years, those memories I have are so important
to me.
I keep so many small thinks to remember – especially my granny.
So, you've probably seen I have a lot of stuffed animals in my videos, if you watch my channel,
and, but that's because I always kind of collect them because of the memories they hold so.
So this little girl here, my little lamb, this is lullaby, and my granny bought her
for me on the last holiday I ever went on with her.
And lullaby is probably nearly 20 years old now she's, don't tell her this, but she's
looking a little bit old and battered.
She has to have baths quite regularly, but she's gorgeous, and I love her, and she's
always been everywhere with me because of the memories she hold and how important she
is to me.
Same with lil growl here.
My sister bought him for me on the last day I ever saw my granny, and he was with me as
I said goodbye to her.
You know, I keep them both for the memories that I have with her, and I keep things like
books and board games that we used to play together.
Even though she's gone I still have those memories and they're still really important
to me.
But most importantly, I keep the things that she taught me, and the person that I am today,
even though she never got to see me become an adult, I think a lot of the good qualities
I have are what she helped to shape.
She always encouraged my creativity and she always kept every single drawing and painting
I did for her, and after she died my parents actually found them all and gave them back
to me, which was so sweet.
We used to play games together, like this one where she would draw a load of like squiggles
or dots or something on a piece of paper and then I would come along and turn it into an
actual drawing, and I remember there was this one where I drew like a somehow see in the
squiggles a bunny building its snowman, and she was just like how do you even see this.
And she was she was always so encouraging, and I loved that.
I mean, like not even like blood family as such, but my dog Jasper.
He died when I was a teenager but he was there when I was growing up and he was my best friend
he was like a little brother to me.
Even though he was a dog, and as silly as it might sound to some people, he taught me
so much about kindness and just how to love someone unconditionally… even if they accidentally
use your carpet as a toilet.
And like, if you can forgive that, you can forgive a lot of things with someone you love.
But all that, I said as much as I missed the people that I've lost, or never even got a
chance to meet, as much as I miss them, I know that death was a final ending for them.
I'm not holding on to some hope that I'm gonna eventually meet them or be reunited with them
again.
And I think in a lot of cases that was the best thing, especially with my granny, and
Jasper, who both had cancer.
Jasper had all these horrible painful tumours on his side, and he was just… he was so
sad, and he was in so much pain his last few days.
And as much as I miss them, I know that death was the best thing because it stopped them
suffering anymore.
But for another thing I know that I'm not just living my life waiting for something.
I'm not living my life waiting to be reunited with them.
I know that they're gone, and it's okay for me to move on, and I think that's a really
really important lesson to learn.
And it makes the memories that I have with them all the more special and meaningful.
I mean, imagine if I just spent my life waiting to get Jasper back?
Because let's be honest, no religion can guarantee that would ever happen.
If I just sat around waiting to get my dog back when I die, would I even be considering
getting another dog right now?
Probably not, and then I'd miss out on the happiness of raising another dog… me and
Dan wouldn't have the opportunity for our family to grow - with a dog.
And some poor little dog would be out there in an animal shelter right now, maybe not
being adopted by loving parents!
We'd miss out, and the dog would miss out, and everyone would miss out.
Just because I was waiting to be reunited with Jasper.
I know that sounds like a silly extreme example, and I know bringing dogs into it might make
some people think I'm kind of trivializing this stuff, but to me a dog is as much a part
of the family as a blood relative, and you could apply to anyone who's lost a husband,
and who doesn't want to move on with a new relationship, because they're waiting to be
reunited with their husband.
I think understanding that death is a final ending helps people move on, and it helps
us realize that it's okay for us to carry on living and enjoying our life afterwards.
What's important is that we remember that even though losing people we love and care
about is hard, we're still left here, and we have this incredible opportunity left to
go on and make sure that their memory is never forgotten; that it still lives on.
And things that they have created or taught, or just that the people they were – they're
never just forgotten.
They still kind of survive and they're still important.
Thank again Rachel, nicely said.
Now the last thing I want to say is that if the perspectives and that me and Rachel have
just given you simply don't feel like enough… then know that you're not alone.
They're not enough for me either.
I want to see my grandfather again, and I want to consciously exist for a lot longer
than just a few decades, but if reality has any lesson to be learnt, is that wishing for
something doesn't make it so.
I also want to end world-hunger, animal cruelty, and religion, but my mere wishing this does
absolutely nothing.
Anyhow, there's a great deal more than can be said on the subject of death, and perhaps
I will do so at a later date, but for now I'm going to conclude by giving a massive
shout-out to everyone who has or is currently grieving without belief.
I salute you, for your pursuit of truth for its own sake; for looking death straight in
the eye rather than closing your own; and for your courage and conviction to embrace
a harsh reality over comforting lies.
As always, thank you kindly for the view, and an extra special thank you to my wonderful
patrons and to those of you who have donated to the channel via PayPal – there's not
a day that goes by that I'm not overwhelmed by your support and trust in me to create
relatable content, and it's important to me that you know this.
Thank you.
And of course, please do be sure to check out Rachel's excellent channel (which I've
linked to below) – she's a breath of fresh air, entertaining, and an all-out wonderful
person.
Until next time my fellow apes, until next time.
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