Dear Lewis Black,
I love you. Ever since I read your book, “Me of Little Faith,” I feel that you are my close and personal friend. I feel so close to you that I told my husband, “If you die I will marry Lewis Black.”
To this, my very wise husband replied, “You can’t marry him. You’re an angry person. You need a happy person or you will drive each other insane.”
I knew he was right. Somehow he is happy, sane, and a genius. I am none of those. Especially the second one. How did a guy like him end up with an angry, nut job like me? I’m cute, that’s how.
Enough about me. You, Lewis Black; you angry, old, gray haired, four eyed, troll of little faith…you are amazing. Your book contains the best description of heaven that I have ever heard. I’m not going to quote it. Everyone should go out and buy your book, and then read the book cover to cover, trying to find it. It’s worth it.
As much as I love to hear my own faith and many others mocked relentlessly, a more serious part of your book has been imprinted on me. It’s the part about your brother, Ron. You said that in the moment after he died, “his spirit filled the room.” You knew he was still there, comforting you. If I had read that a few years ago I would’ve assumed that you were a crazy, delusional old man. But I had an experience in the summer of 2015 that caused me to question everything I thought I knew about “spirits” and dead people. I had started writing my personal history and I came to a point where I had to either quit the project or write about someone I knew who had committed suicide. To say that it was hard to write about would be an absurd understatement. About three weeks before I was due to write about him I started crying every day. Then, one day, as I took a walk, I could see him walking with me. He was healthy and content. He wouldn’t look at me. He just walked. This vision was so strong that I have no better explanation than *gulp* he was actually there. As I wrote about him I frequently sensed that he was with me. I knew he was still there, comforting me. And I know for a fact that I’m not a crazy, delusional old man.
This whole ridiculous experience goes against everything I thought I knew about life after death. I am a Christian. A hard-core, Bible reading, church going, married to a youth pastor, Christian. As far as I know there is only one ghost mentioned in the Bible (other than the Holy one) and that was Samuel. He was pretty pissed off about his rest being disturbed. So when I saw this spirit, ghost, energy, or whatever you want to call it; and he wasn’t being pissed off at all, I didn’t have a compartment to put it in. It didn’t make sense. I had thought that the Bible explained everything. I guess that was pretty naive.
I have to give the “good book” the credit that is due (if that were possible). It says, “We are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses.” Once again, I’m not telling where, because I’m lazy. You stay in hotels all the time. Pick it up and read it cover to cover. It’s worth it. I daresay it’s even a little better than your book. I always thought that these “witnesses” were metaphorical or far off. Now I have to allow that some of them might be up close and personal, like your brother and my friend and countless other people. Somehow this is both uncomfortable and comforting.
I know it’s a round-about way of saying it, but the real reason I am writing is to say thank you. Reading your stories makes me feel a little less unhitched. Because of your honesty I know that I am not alone in my other worldly experiences. I hope to meet you one day in a heaven that is even more amazing then the one you describe. It would be interesting to know what you’re like when there is nothing around to make you angry. Come to think of it, I wonder what I’ll be like when there’s nothing to make me angry. Anyway, I am forever grateful to you, Lewis Black, but I will never marry you. I hope you understand. Sorry.
Your close and personal friend,