I visited St Peter’s Bascillica while in Rome. It’s a place that’s on the list of places to visit while in Rome, and as such it was on my list.
I’ve been feeling like I want to be a believer lately, so Vatican City had some draw. Catholicism has all the issues Catholicism has, but it’s chock full of traditions I understand, so it’s been my access point for my recent believerism.
We went to St. Peter’s. I stopped in front of St. Peter’s tomb. There’s an altar in there. There’d been a bunch of American pilgrims, praying aloud there, saying the Our Father. I know all the words but I didn’t join in. I’m not so great at being part of things.
I started crying. My throat was tight, and I was ashamed to cry. I couldn’t stop crying. I bit the inside of my cheek to stop crying. It’s an old trick I have, and it always works, but it didn’t work. I was crying and I couldn’t stop.
I felt God there. I felt God hold on to me.
And even though I fear that makes me a lunatic to say it, because atheism just makes so much sense to me, I felt it. I felt God hold onto me, and it hurt to feel that he’d been holding onto me for so long and I could only just feel it.
I’m the one who keeps letting go. Why is it so hard to not let go?