• Every day, the first and last thing I see is a bible sitting on my nightstand. Contrary to it's presence, I've been an atheist for as long as I can remember. At first, my dad thought it was just a phase I would grow out of, until I stopped going to church with the family. He was convinced I was on the path to hell, and he tried to rectify my apostasy by lecturing me about God and heaven. Despite his efforts, the bible and it's teachings were fictitious in my mind. I remained unconvinced that God was responsible for the world's creation, or that people went to heaven or hell when they died. The idea of a woman being impregnated by God's word made me double up in laughter. Once I moved out, we tried to avoid the subject, until one evening after dinner, he asked me: “So what happens when you die, huh? You think that's it? You're gone forever?” I replied: “After you die, your body gets buried in the ground, and your flesh disintegrates over time. That's all.” My father almost cried that night. I was still in medical school, and I had seen the dissected contents of a human being with my own eyes.
    Thirty years later I was sitting in church at his funeral. When I saw his coffin lowered into the ground, I thought of his flesh and bones, of his muscles and organs. I saw his body rotting, turning into earth. Then I thought of his spirit, of his mind and everything else that you couldn't physically see. Try as I might, I couldn't imagine them decaying. That day, I went to a bookstore and purchased a bible. It was small, plain and black, and its pages were thin. I don't think I've ever opened it. I had learned all I needed about the bible from my father. I put the bible on my nightstand, right next to the picture of him and my mother. I still consider myself an atheist. I don't believe in God, or that he created the earth. I don't believe a virgin gave birth to God's son, or that people go to heaven or hell when they die. Nevertheless, I keep the bible on my nightstand, and it's the last thing I see before I go to sleep.