I was born with a rare disease. At the time, docs in the states were not well-educated in it, so the general opinion was that I would not live to see adulthood.

So as a young child, I was obsessed with the thought of dying. I had a very religious grandmother who (to me) had all the answers about my afterlife. She often told me that because I was "good", God would allow me into heaven to be happy.

But as a child, the idea of being all alone in a strange place scared me. So I would ask her questions...

"Grandma, will my dog go to heaven too?" I would ask.

"No, dear. Dogs don't have souls." came her reply.

I cried for two days after she told me that. I couldn't accept the idea of never seeing my beloved pet again after I died and went to heaven. It also told me that there were no animals in heaven, which distressed me as well. I was about 8 at the time.

"Grandma, will Dad go to heaven?" I asked her a few years later.

"No. Your father is a homosexual, and he is going against God's way. So God hates him." came her bitter reply.

Again, I was devastated. My father was the most important person in my life. He was very kind and patient, and I considered him to be a very good father, despite the fact that he was gay. (I think it was an embarassment to his mother though)

It was then that I decided that if God wouldn't take my pet or my father, then he wasn't going to take me either. In my 10-year old mind, I was going to refuse to die.

I got enrolled in Sunday school. I guess my grandmother feared for my delicate soul that was nearing its expiration date on earth. Within a month, they sent me back. Apparantly I asked too many questions and was disrupting the rest of the class. (In other words, I raised points that got the other kids thinking...it interfered with the brainwashing process.)

Over the next 17 years, I've watched my body slowly give out on me. I've also done many things that nobody thought I'd ever live to do. I still have no intention of just giving up and wait for death. (at least not yet). But I don't think it is a "miricle from God" either. I think my determination and inner strength gave me the reprieve.

In the last two years, I've lost both my dog and my father. Somehow, I don't see either of them burning in hell . But damned if I didn't get haunted by my grandmother's words, however briefly, when I learned of their passings.

But that is what got me to turn my back on Christianity. Maybe it's a stupid reason, but it was enough for me at the time. I've never regretted it.

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