“What happens after you die?” 

            It’s about time he’d started asking me questions like this.  I’ve waited for this for a long time. 

“I don’t know.  Nobody knows.” 

“At church they said you go to Heaven.  Don’t you go to Heaven?”

“At church they say a lot of things.  Do you ever question the stories they tell you at church?” 

“Sometimes.  I can’t understand that story about the world being in a bucket.  I can’t remember the whole story, but I couldn’t understand it.” 

“There are lots of things that you won’t be able to understand.  That’s why people come up with stories, to try to understand, but they can end up doing other things, other negative things.” 

“Well, if you don’t go to Heaven, what happens when you die?” 

            I can’t fill him with all my fatherly propaganda, he’s too young for that.  I can’t wrap my head around most of my thoughts; I can’t go polluting his head with them too.  Maybe he’ll be able to figure them out.  

“I’m not too sure.  I think anything could happen.  First ask yourself the question, what is dying?  Is dying tragic?  Should it be mourned, or celebrated?  Is our view of dying based on ancient practices that happened thousands and thousands of years ago before we had the type of knowledge we have now?  It’s not until we know exactly what dying is that we can start to question what happens after we die.” 

            His eyes don’t show confusion.  

“So, what is death?” 

“You know that as much as me.  It’s when you’re no longer alive.  What is life?” 

            He pauses and grins.  I can see the gears in his head turning, precisely tuned by my hand.  

“To be alive is to do what you want with your life.  Isn’t life complete freedom?” 

“It sure should be, but if freedom is doing what you want, how do you know what you did isn’t wrong?” 

“There should be a set of rules.  Everyone should follow them, and if they didn’t they should get punished.” 

“Who would determine what’s right and wrong, and who should decide the punishment?” 

            I hope this inspires him. 

“It should be all the smartest people that decide.  They could think of all the possibilities based on history and determine what to do.” 

“How will you know who’s the smartest?” 

“I dunno.  There could be tests.” 

“Well, tests would have to be made by men, and they may be biased.  There’s no way to have a pure test.  If you can’t have a pure test, then how can you find the smartest people? Even if you could find the smartest people how do you know that their moral fiber is strong enough to make the right choices?” 

            He thinks.  His eyes wander and his lips part in a smart little grin. 

“I dunno.  How would you know?” 

“I don’t know either.  I just know that each man is free.  It doesn’t matter what society or church tell you.  Yes, church is good, because think of all the lessons it has taught you to be a better person.  Those lessons are good, and have made you a better person.  Society is good, because it prepares you for your life.  Even though we seem so distant from one another these days, it’s not so.  People are always helping each other out, but society is more negative.  There’s lots wrong with it, but as long as you learn, and see the wrongs you can take advantage of all that’s right.  You are right though, life is freedom.”

            I can’t say anything else.  I can’t add any more because I don’t know anymore.  He keeps his eyes glued to me in expectance, but I don’t have anything else to say.  I’m not even sure I should have said anything I did say.  Now he’ll probably end up being cynical like me. 

“You better get to bed, it’s getting late.” 

            I feel like I’ve disappointed him by losing track of my tongue and answering nothing.  When I was his age I wish I had asked my father these questions.  It’s not because I hold my father to such high esteem, but he was a man of answers, and he knew everything.