Is there life after death?

As Holy Week approaches, we feel more profoundly that life will take us through many more Good Fridays and Easter Sundays in our journey towards what our Catholic faith teaches us is “life everlasting” or eternal life.

At the wake of Art Cabrera (my husband Ed’s classmate at the Ateneo since prep) at the Tahanan Village chapel in Parañaque, Father Rolly San Agustin asked Art’s Ateneo classmates who had come to mourn his passing: How sure are we that there is indeed life after death?

No one, he says, has sent us photos or video footage of how it is like after death. In a world where we believe only airtight evidence (whether in impeachment trials or personal matters), what proof do we have that indeed Jesus died and rose from the dead into eternal life?

I hardly ever question what my faith teaches me, because more often than not, my faith in God has sustained me through life’s changing moods. How can one not help but count on an old-reliable?

But I do wonder till now if indeed there is life after death because I have not seen photos of what goes on beyond the Pearly Gates. In his dying days, my dad Frank would tell my mom Sonia that his Papa (Nazario Mayor) had come to pick him up, but there was a car breakdown. He would also mention his first cousin Buster (who died when he was a young man).

I recently had a dream of Dad in Paris  maybe heaven looks like Paris! Dad took Mom to Paris a couple of years before he died. I also once had a dream of my grandmother Jovita Reyes (whom I called Nanay) with a little girl, and when I told my mom about it she said that it was my baby girl Joanna (who was born prematurely and died a few seconds after) in Nanay’s loving care. Once, I fell asleep briefly and I had a dream of a little girl lying down on my left shoulder, her head above my heart. I was once told babies like to lay their heads above their mother’s heart, because a mother’s heartbeat, the only sound babies know in their mother’s womb, is their lullaby. So my heart knows that somehow life goes on, somewhere far beyond the stars.

* * *

But there is proof of Christ’s death and resurrection, Father Rolly said during the homily he gave at the Mass sponsored by Ateneo HS Batch ‘71 for Art. Proof that Jesus died were the eyewitness accounts of him being stabbed on his side by a spear by a Roman soldier, after which he bled to death.

His resurrection?

Proof of his resurrection wasn’t on a Polaroid  it was on the martyrdom of 10 of his apostles. Father Rolly said that except for John, who died of old age (and Judas who hang himself), all of the apostles were executed because they held on to their account of Jesus’ resurrection. That his rose from his tomb after three days and into eternal life.

“Would you die for something you didn’t witness and believe in?” Father Rolly asked. It would have been easy for the apostles to say they didn’t see Jesus’ resurrection and be granted a new lease on life, especially if they really didn’t witness it.

And what is heaven? Where is heaven? Is it here on earth  many times I feel that it is, whether it’s just a bite of chunky New York cheesecake with espresso, a glorious sunset in Boracay, feeling the spray from Niagara Falls on my face, autumn in New England, stargazing with one’s beloved.

But according to Father Rolly, the love and happiness we feel now is nothing compared to being in the fullness of God’s love  because He is God and capable of giving more; much, much more. Death, he concludes, is our passageway to the life where we will see and feel God’s love. Death is the threshold to heaven.

A friend recently lost two loved ones in a month’s time. She told me, “I know God has a plan but I can’t see it yet. But I know, one day I will.”

Live life fully and completely, and find heaven on earth  but take sustenance in the knowledge that there is a happily ever after.

* * *

I had met Art Cabrera only a couple of times. But each time I would see him, he and his wife Cynthia were celebrating togetherness. I vividly remember being on the same flight to Amsterdam as he and Cynthia were in May 2011. They seemed so happy because they were proceeding to visit their son in London. Late last year, I bumped into Art and Cynthia again, at the Benjarong of Dusit Thani. They were having a good Thai meal before Art’s chemo. He was in good spirits.

In his eulogy for Art, Alan Ortiz, another of his Ateneo classmates, said tall Art was the big brother with the marshmallow heart  soft and generous. His wake was filled with hundreds of wreaths from people who appreciated him and wanted to condole with his family  he is one of the few non-politicians I know whose wake was overflowing with people and flowers.

Alan recalled that Art never lost hope as he journeyed through his illness. On the day Art checked into the hospital for the last time, he texted Alan that his prognosis was good. Cynthia says that although Art was in a state of grace, he never worked towards that state with the resignation that he was going to die. He wanted to be perfect for God because he believed he was going to live.

And last week, he passed on to that realm where he will live forever.

Godspeed, Art!

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