An Atheist's Anathema

In loving memory of my baby brother, Jacob Michael Braasch (01/28/86 – 02/02/10)

I see you.  I hear you.  I know you.  You cannot hide from me.  I know your thoughts.  I know what you have done.  And, I know that you know that I know. 

And, I condemn you.  I do not forgive you.  I do not absolve you. 

And, I know that you want me to.  I know that you need me to.  But, I don’t, and I won’t.

My existence and my hatred and my rage and my condemnation torment you.  Because, you cannot pretend.  I won’t allow you to pretend.  I won’t allow you to live in a fantasy world of make-believe and no culpability.  Because, you are culpable.  And, you will be punished.  And, I will punish you. 

I am the only one who can grant you absolution.  I am the only one who can forgive you.  I am the only one who can release you from your guilt.

There is no one else.  There is no one else to save you.  There is no God to forgive you.  No amount of penance or prayer will save you from your conscience.  There is no afterlife.  No heaven nor hell; no purgatory nor limbo.

There is only me.  Judgment Day is now.  I am your personal Jesus Christ, your Messiah, your Savior, your Redeemer.  And, I reject you.  I deny you.  I will not wash clean your sins.  I do not exonerate you.  I am a wrathful, vindictive Old Testament God. 

You will call for me.  Before the end.  You will call for me, beg for me on your deathbed.  But, I will not come.  Call for a priest.  You’ll get no last rites from me. 

I am the only one who can pardon you.  There is no one else.  And, I deny you that peace.  I deny you that respite from your guilt.  I deny you.

It gives me pleasure to imagine you coiled up into the fetal position, in apoplectic agonies of shame, stricken with guilt, tortured by your memories. 

I want you to know, in the midst of your death throes, as you inhale and exhale your final breath, that I do not forgive you.  I want you to know that I will spit on your grave.