The Great Hearafter

I'm afraid. It's the kind of person I am. If I were to be another creature, it would be a prey animal with an anxiety disorder. Instead, I'm a human with an anxiety disorder. Being afraid or worried is in my nature. Generally, there's something I can do about it. Talking to husband helps, as does seeing a psychiatrist. Other times, I can go on a walk or do one of my kick boxing videos (today, I've done both, even though it's 85 degrees with 60% humidity). Recently, though, I've found something that I can't do much about. I've been thinking about the nature of living and dying. Not so much the "how" part; that's going to be different for everyone, and I'm hoping for either passing while sleeping or while on the toilet. Rather, I've been thinking about the after part. What happens after we die? Anything? Nothing? Do we just decay?

Bodily, I sort of assume that we decay. I mean, our bodies don't merely disintegrate into nothingness (I will become very aware of this next week, during my first anatomy lab). There's something else, though, something "other" about all creatures. It's pretty difficult to look at my husband, who I love dearly, and think that his quirky personality is only due to chemical reactions taking place deep within his skull. Similarly, my cats are just completely ridiculous, but they clearly have some sort of character that makes them who they are. So what happens to that essence of being, that spark of personality, the sense of consciousness, the soul? Calvin and Hobbes have the following exchange to offer.

Calvin: Hobbes, what do you think happens to us when we die?
Hobbes: I think we play saxophone for an all-girl cabaret in New Orleans.
Calvin: So you believe in heaven?
Hobbes: Call it what you like.

I...am not sure what I believe. I only know that I have this deep certainty that there is something else after this world. My problem is that I desire proof, beyond a doubt, of what comes next. It's pretty hard to scientifically prove whether or not there is an afterlife, especially since bodies decay so willingly when left unattended. I am currently reading Spook by Mary Roach. She goes out looking for evidence to prove or debunk the notion of an afterlife. She says, in the beginning, that she very much wants there to be a place for the soul to hang out in after we're done here. She then quips, "will there be a place to plug in my laptop?" It should be an interesting read. Maybe it'll help my worrying.

All I know is that I watched The Bucket List the other night and bawled my eyes out (I know, not the best movie choice for an existential crisis).