#40 Unfinished business

Eric and I were very close. You can probably tell that easily by reading this blog. We had our fights and our sibling rivalry moments, but I don’t remember a time when we weren’t close. I’m glad we didn’t waste the time we had together, but there is one outstanding issue that we never did get to discuss.

I have hinted about it in other blogs, but today I’m going to try and talk about it.

Eric and I were raised Jewish. We weren’t particularly observant, but we went to Hebrew school, had our Bar and Bat Mitzvahs, and Eric even went to a year or two of Hebrew High. Two years before he died, Eric became a practicing Christian. He was baptized and he attended church once or twice a week. He helped his girlfriend lead her youth group at her church. He had an area set up in his apartment for Bible study.

He never told me.

I knew Eric had been searching for a spiritual home for a long time. Despite putting in his years of Jewish education, Eric was never comfortable being a Jew. I think there were many reasons for this, but I’m not going to put words in his mouth. Even as a child he argued with the Rabbi about the existence of God.

As an adult Eric flirted with Mormonism and other religions. I knew he had done a lot of reading and research, I didn’t know he had settled on an answer.

The week before Thanksgiving last year, Eric informed my parents about his religious affiliation in an email, and my Mom told me. I was angry and hurt that he hadn’t confided in me. I always thought we could talk about everything. I thought I would have plenty of time to bring it up and I was waiting for the right time to talk about it with him.

I don’t know why Eric didn’t feel that he could talk to me. I’ll never know. I have my speculations. It could be that while he was discovering his Christianity we were living in Oklahoma and definitely put off by the rampant Christian atmosphere. As he was joining a church, my husband and I were growing more and more leery of organized religion as a whole. Still, I hope he would have known that I would have supported his choice.

I don’t care that Eric was Christian, he could have been a moonie and I would still have loved him. I care that he didn’t share it with me. It was clearly an important, daily part of his life. I wonder if I really knew him as well as I thought I did.