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If we believe in life after death, what happens?

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If we believe in life after death, and we have had a few true loves, what happens?

*Oh, this could get real messy, real fast.

Let’s take this as a hypothetical scenario. (Which, after all, ‘life after death’ is.)

You find your true love and marry at an early age. She gets eaten by beavers the next day. You grieve.

A few years go by, you move on, find that yes, you can love again. You find your soul mate. Once again, a true love enters your life. She gets eaten by beavers.

Despondent now, many years go by. In middle age, you are lucky enough to again encounter another true love. You move far away from ponds of any kind.

You live in bliss for several years. Then one day she is accidently shot…by beaver hunters. You are suicidal. You see nothing but grief in your future.

After decades, in your old age, you are seated next to this woman in the Bingo Hall at your local Moose Lodge.

She is wearing a button which says “Save a tree- eat a beaver”.

It’s love at first sight. Your heart leaps into your throat. Your entire body tingles, from the top of your bald head to the bottom of your gnarled toes.

She looks you in the eyes and ‘Bingo!’ She falls for you.

You pick her up off the floor, set her back upon her seat, then throw her onto the table and with wild abandon make passionate, feverish old people love to her right there in the Bingo Hall.

After getting bailed out of jail, the two of you elope. (To escape prosecution)
You spend your days on a desert isle in the South Pacific, laying on a beach and basking in the sun.

Then one day, while sunbathing, a tall palm tree suddenly comes crashing down on the two of you, killing you both instantly.

Yes, it was felled by the last remaining beaver of the island……..

What was the question again?

Oh yeah, yeah…life after death. I forgot.

So there you are, in the afterlife.
Is it the ‘young’ you?
The ‘middle aged’ you?
The ‘old’ you?

Who is this ‘you’ in the afterlife?

I only ask because there are four women, each of them at one time, your true love, standing, arms crossed, toes tapping, staring at you and giving you that evil eye.

Quite the dilemma. Quite the dilemma indeed.

And all you can think of at this crucial time is:

“I wish I had just been an iguana…”

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