Hello, God. It’s me, dumbass
By: Julian Rogers
Tags: Death, Conversations With God, Humor, Life

existential humor

Hello, God. It’s me, dumbass

Wait for it

DA: I have so many questions!

G: Typical.

DA: Thank you for seeing me. I don’t want to take up too much of your time.

G: Let me stop you right there. There is no such thing as time. There is no such thing as “things,” either, but I don’t want to totally blow your “mind.”

DA: Wha?

G: Time. There isn’t any. It was a construct I, uh, constructed, for you while you were on the big wet rock.

DA: So, I’m dead?

G: Hoo boy. We’re a little farther behind the curve than I thought. Yes, you’re dead. Time ran out for you. It no longer is a factor in your existence, such as it was/is.

DA: Time doesn’t …

G: Time isn’t. Wasn’t. Doesn’t. There is none.

DA: So how …?

G: Oh my self. Don’t start with the “how” questions. We don’t have enough time for that.

Yeah, I know. I said it. I was here when I did it. I can do that.

Anyway, on the subject of “time,” which I made to help you along and — if we’re being honest — to totally entertain us up here, is no longer relevant to your understanding.

DA: Now I have more questions than ever.

G: That’s usually the way this conversation goes.

DA: So we are “up” here? In Heaven?

G: Whoa, Nellie. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. “Heaven,” although it is one of my favorites, is just a fable. And you’re not there. You’re not anywhere, but I digress. What you think of as “Heaven” is probably better thought of by you as “Phase 2.” Try not to put so much hope into it.

And also, there is no such thing as “up,” but you probably could have guessed that was coming, right?

DA: I feel sick.

G: No, you don’t.

DA: You’re right. I don’t.

G: You’re welcome.

DA: So, where …?

G: Where are you? Right where you’ve always been. Quick poll: Is that comforting to know? I’ve got a bet with Gabe about this. Be honest. I’ll know if you’re not.

DA: I’ve always been here?

G: Sure. Yeah. Just not “completely,” let’s say.

DA: OK, yeah. I guess that’s comforting to know.

G: Knew it! I just told Gabe, by the way. He’s totally stewing, but isn’t going to say anything. I mean, what can he do? I’m God.

Anyway … you have questions, thoughts?

DA: So this is Phase 2? My life was Phase 1, but I’ve always been here?

G: Yeah, mostly. Actually, no. But you’re starting to almost, kinda, nearly sort of get it.

DA: I don’t get it.

G: No, you don’t. But that’s what makes it fun for me. I’m here to help, you know? I’m a people person. Literally: I’m the people person.

DA: So you’re a person?

G: Hey now. I can call myself that, but not you.

DA: Not even going to touch that.

G: Smart.

DA: It feels like I just got here. But you’re saying I’ve always been here? What was my time on Earth all about?

G: Biting into the perfect sandwich.

DA: What?

G: Yeah. It’s true. It’s both literal and metaphorical. And a few other things, but you wouldn’t get that.

DA: That’s it?

G: Of course not.

DA: So what happens in Phase 2?

G: Nothing actually “happ …” You know what? I’m going to just skip that part. What we’re doing right now is orientation. You’re going to want to be a lot more oriented before the next phase.

DA: Phase 3?

G. You’re adorable.

DA: You’re saying I’m adorable?

G: I was being condescending. It’s kinda my thing. It’s my trump card.

DA: Am I going to Phase 3?

G: Seriously. You’re killing me. If that were possible, I mean.

DA: What happens in Phase 3?

G: There is no Phase 3, Einstein. Do you really think it’s all linear?

DA: I don’t even know if I think what I think I think, I think.

G: We have arrived at the leading edge of the beginning to the onramp of understanding, folks.

DA: Is there or isn’t there a next phase?

G: Sure. Yeah.

DA: What is it??????

G: I’ve got a word for you.

DA: And that would be …?

G: “Sanguine.”

DA: That explains nothing!

G: Clear as a bell for me. But for you, no. But when you get there, you’ll get it. In fact, you’ll love it. If you were looking back on it, which you cannot because there is no time, thus there is no history, you would understand that you were struggling to get to someplace you were already at. Which you should have.

DA: Holy mother of G-

G: Let’s keep her out of it. She’s at her group and is not to be disturbed.

DA: How did I get here?

G: You died.

DA: I don’t remember any of it.

G: Recent policy update. Our little gift to you. We blot it out.

DA: You … why?

G: All the shrieking. Took a lot of effort to get every new dead arrival to calm down enough for a reasonable conversation. So many questions — it got very annoying.

DA: Sounds like it was a gift for you, not us.

G: It can be both.

DA: Why didn’t I know I was already here?

G: You did.

DA: When?

G: When you realized your special someone felt the same way as you. Any time you stuck with something worthwhile. Every time you hear your new favorite song. When you felt the warmth of a campfire lit by someone else. When your mom hugged you gently. When your dad squeezed you tight. When you made the shot and you heard your grandparents cheering in the stands. When you nailed the move you practiced so many times. When you aced the test and got your grade. When your mom made your favorite dish. When you share memories with your siblings. When you unwrapped that perfect gift your mom knew you wanted more than anything else in that moment. When your team won against impossible odds. When you climbed the peak and took in how vast the big wet rock is. When you made it that last tenth of a mile on empty and found an open gas station. Any time you actually, truly helped someone or a just cause. When you prepared your grandma’s recipe. When you landed the jump. When you first met your baby brother. When you first met your own baby. When your daughter proved she could squeeze you hard enough to hurt. When you said goodbye to someone you love. When you realized your wife was supposed to be your wife. When you did that thing with your wife. Not the first time, but when you finally got good at it. When you stepped off the airplane after you thought it would crash. When you were sick and delirious and a nurse was kind to you. When the doctor cured you. When you first rode the rickety rollercoaster. When you breathed the salty sea air. When you realized you could ride your bike. When you got your first motorcycle. When you flew down that trail and climbed that big hill. When you stripped off your cold, wet clothes and got in a hot shower. Every time you first sink into a hot tub (almost). When you picked the right friends. When you got picked by the right friends. Any time you walked away from something that wasn’t worthy of you. When you realized you could sing. All the times you made someone laugh. All the times you laughed at yourself. When your grandmother smiled because you arrived. When your child felt a sense of accomplishment. When your dad told you you had a good work ethic. When your boss complimented your work. When your friend called for no reason. When you had the answer to anything. When it hurt and you knew who to see to make it better. When you survived doing something dumb. When you were handed a breakfast menu. When you felt the wave throw you around. When you made friends with a dog. When you willingly shared anything good. When you knew what you wanted to eat. When you were needed. When you belonged.

DA: So I was already here then all along. During all those times.

G: Here-ish.

DA: I’ll take it.

G: You should.

DA: You didn’t mention cats.

G: Fuck them.