A funeral staff

What follows is a personal story about how when I was a Christian, my fear of hell to torment me if my grandmother was suffering after his death last week of the 9th anniversary of my grandmother passing thought. He died in my mother's birthday. I decided to visit his grave for the first time in nine years, the funeral. I need some time alone with her memory. The circumstances of his death are pretty horrible, but I needed to come back. Inecessary to provide a final farewell and buried in my mind. Aware that he could not hear me, nor given a few personal words to them. I had the feeling of therapy. I loved her. Sometimes I get emotional when I see her strong features in the faces of my children. I see my father and sisters, and when I look in the mirror and a sadness comes over me, because I miss them. It took many years after his death, I thought I had the strength to visit the site and haveso much time alone with my thoughts and memories. The reason it took so long to get back to my childhood. When I was 6, my parents converted to evangelical Christianity. From that moment on, was raised in the Christian foundations of the Bible. I thought. I was a child. I was taught that death is not the end, but we have a spirit that is alive. I was taught that this spirit is condemned by default to burn eternally in a lake of fire to suffer. This idea...



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QFDB3hNUVFw&hl=en