By Traci Mullins
I stopped believing in hell on a Monday morning in May.
I had just returned to work after losing my beloved grandmother. Bereavement leave didn’t cover grandparents, so I’d had to come back long before the razor edge of grief had dulled.
My friends, who knew that this grandmother had raised me, were comforting.
“I know how much she meant to you.”
“She was your rock, wasn’t she?”
Maybe there’s a chance I’ll make it through this day.
On my way to get my second cup of coffee, a woman known for her juicy gossip approached, putting her liver-spotted hand on my arm.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said. Pat pat.
She was so close I could see her lopsided rouge with powder puffed on top and a long hair sticking out of her chin. Who wears powder anymore?
“Thank you, I appreciate your kindness,” I said, not wanting to be rude but eager to move on. I started to take a step, but she gripped my arm more urgently, her owlish eyes boring into mine, a crease of concern etched into her forehead.
“Was she saved, honey?”
I shouldn’t have been surprised that this woman who barely knew me felt entitled to barge into my grief to ask where Grandma was spending eternity. After all, it’s important for those in my churchy circle to know which folks are safe and which are burning. A week ago, I would have thought so, too.
But now my mind flooded with snapshots of the woman who had loved me so well for so long. No one on earth was ever happier to see me than she was. I could hear her laughter, bubbling with the joy of me, feel her tenderness as she brushed my fine hair and rolled it up in rags for the night. She helped me dress up like a princess, or a ballerina. She let me suck Jell-O off the ice cubes and lick chocolate off her spoons. When I was at Grandma’s house, I was small and safe and happy—even when I was thirty years old.
My spine stiffened as I pulled my arm away from this powdered stranger. “Well, maybe not ‘saved’ in the way you would define it,” I said. Honey. “But she was the most loving woman I’ve ever known.”
I was proud of myself, standing up for my godless grandmother while rocking this interloper’s high horse.
But she just looked away. Embarrassed for me.
Such a pity…I could hear her thinking as she trailed off down the hall, releasing me.
Saving me.
It seems like the author, Traci Mullins, is basing her vision of a god-less world on one nosy old lady. There is no way any of us can judge where a person goes after death. So, in my opinion, this story is about the day the granddaughter came to believe in Hell, one inhabited by nosy old church ladies, not the opposite.
Thank you for your feedback. In no way do I believe in a godless universe, just in a hell-less one. : ) The character was shedding that aspect of her religion, not the whole thing.
We certainly are entitled to our opinions. Thank you for providing evidence that people like the coworker are a fiction based in reality. As for hell or dieties, that which can be asserted without evidence, can be dismissed without evidence.
The people in this world who give and care about those around them, those are the people that create heaven, and the do it tangibly right here on earth.
I hope that it’s true for this author that they write what they know. It is a little bit of happiness to think the author knows or knew someone like grandma.
A pleasure to read.
Thank you, Carla.
I loved this story. I, too, am like the grandmother. I try to lead a good life and be loving and kind to everyone. I don’t believe in God so I don’t think about heaven or hell. I think Traci got it right by saying it’s the quality of your life that matters not if you’re religious or not. Thank you for a great story.
Thank you, Tom!
Great story. Perfect arc and a real communication of the rawness of loss and grief. Thnx
Thank you, JF!
A fascinating and heart-felt examination of unconditional familial love versus institutionalized spirituality.
LJ, you clearly understood the story precisely. Thank you for this feedback!
Since the post was removed on FB, I’ll comment here. I love you my darling Taco and am so proud of who you are and who you are becoming!
Susanna
Thank you, honey!
In my opinion, amongst Churchy folks, there are genuine Christians and then there are Biblicans. Biblican’s use the bible (usually from the Old Testament) to assert toxic dogma that JC was trying to get his followers to get beyond. The antagonist in this story is one of the better FF Biblicans I have read (not to say that Grandma or the protagonist were necessarily Christians, but I am guessing JC would approve).
Well done story Traci.
Thank you, Frank!
Excellently ironic that she is saved by that Christian idiot’s ignorance. I always judge a short-short by its last line. This one was perfect. Thank you for sharing it with us.
Thank you, Carman!
All sorts of Christians out there. I love your portrayal of a grandmother who out-Christians the zealots. Your tactful protagonist is nicer than I would have been.
Well done and thank you.
Thank you, MJ!
Lovely story, well done.
Thank you, Jan!
Oh My…. tryin’ to make me cry, eh? It is a wonderfully True
story. You were her greatest Joy, my dear daughter, and I thank you [and the Heavens] for that. Would that we could know that Grandma is reading your story and smiling. Love you.
Aww, thanks, Mama! ❤️
Wonderful story about our loving Grandma. I’m not a big believer in the afterlife in any form, but I do believe that Frances is only eligible for The Good Place. Hopefully there will be blanket forts.
Oh, I KNOW there will be, little Bethie! ?
What a nice tribute to my mother who definitely practiced what Christianity teaches even though she was not a church person.
Jim
Thank you, Uncle Jim!