After Dinner Conversation® - Philosophy | Ethics Short Story

After Dinner Conversation® - Philosophy | Ethics Short Story

"Grief" by Steven Ross

What if God decided to leave us, never to return?

Oct 16, 2025
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📖 Weekly Short Story

Grief by Steven Ross


Part 1 – Denial

Guided by turbulent winds, a piece of trash tumbled under trees and lit street lamps. It rolled against brick buildings, sometimes getting caught on furnished outcroppings. It traveled toward me and stopped by my feet. The wind threatened to blow it away, so I leaned down to pick it up. Someone tore a piece of newspaper and crunched it into a misshapen ball.

I dreaded the discovery, but I unfolded it anyway. The headline of the shredded paper confirmed my suspicion. My stomach churned as I read the words: “God left us.” I wept at the reminder and sat down on the curb. As the tears started to dry, I realized I loosened my grasp on the paper. It blew in an unknown direction for another poor soul to read.

Except for the individuals lost from civilization, the world knew of His departure. On a normal day like any other, the holy beacon shone in the sky for all to view. The signal announced a forthcoming decree. As tradition, the news avenues of every nation publicized the holy pronouncement.

As a bishop of the faith, I arrived at the palace amphitheater to experience His will and presence firsthand. The atmosphere vibrated with enthusiasm and excitement from the gathering crowd on the sacred grounds. We didn’t have to wait long before the palace doors opened. God came out to the balcony that overlooked us and said, “It’s time for me to leave. I have taught you everything I can. Goodbye.” He retreated into the palace, and the doors slid shut. Moments later, loud rumbling emanated in front of the crowd and tremors could be felt under us. The holy palace broke free from the ground and levitated into the heavens. Everyone sat in silent disbelief.

He existed as a central part of our past. Since the dawn of our people, he has guided us on the path of righteousness. From his palace, he appeared throughout history to teach us spirituality and technology. I didn’t believe this could be the end. I searched for a reason as to why he would leave. Nothing came to mind.

I stood up from the curb and wiped the wetness from my face. The stormy wind had subsided but now, night nestled in the city. My duty dictated that I comfort my congregation. They waited for my interpretation of the events. The appointed hour of meeting passed as I roamed the streets to hide from my obligations. There would be those that stayed behind at the house of God. I decided to defy my inner doubt, so I started in the direction of my temple.

My sermon would be pointless without God’s influence. I tried to find inspiration as I ventured through the sparse streets. Few roamed the avenues; those I saw glanced at me with sullen, pleading eyes. They recognized my holy garments and wished for answers. I resolved to listen to them on the way to my destination.

I journeyed in silence till an elderly woman waved me down. She shuffled closer and pulled her scarf tight to protect against the chill in the air. I asked, “How might I help you, ma’am?”

She said, “Bishop, I see the strain in your eyes even in this light. Have faith and hold onto it.” She gave a slight smile and continued her walk.

After, I ventured on the sidewalk when a young couple, holding a small child, stopped me. The mother looked at me, tension visible in her posture, and said, “Bishop, we’re afraid. Who will protect us?”

“God. He always has and always will.”

The baby started to cry, and the couple apologized. They gave their thanks then moved on. I resumed my path until I nearly collided into a balding man reading a newspaper. He eyed me up and down, and said, “Bishop, I missed the news because of my night shift at the factory. Are the headlines true?”

“Yes. But fear not. His will still guides us.”

The man shrugged, looked back at the newspaper, and flipped it through. I began my walk anew and approached the final street to my destination. From a side alley, a haggard, gray-haired man bumped into me. I almost fell, but I kept my balance. The man reeked of sweat and unwashed clothes. He gave me a slight nod. I said, “Don’t worry. I’m not injured, friend. Join me at the temple. We have fresh clothes, warm food, and a washroom.”

The man seemed taken aback, but managed to say, “I appreciate the offer, Bishop. I’m happy on my own.”

“God will guide you on your own journey. If you ever change your mind, the temple is open.”

The man performed a polite bow and went on his way. I surprised myself with my responses tonight. I doubted God and myself, but He remained to help me on my way.

I arrived at the temple and opened the doors. My eyes grew wide, and my heart beat a bit faster as I witnessed my full congregation in attendance. A smile formed at the wonderful sight of so many faithful. I let the doors close behind me and I tread on the crimson red carpet to the podium.

When I arrived, I pivoted to face the crowd, and said, “God will return to us.”

Part 2 – Anger

O righteous God,

What have we done to deserve this? There’s so much more for you to teach us. We made offerings and we prayed for you. We wanted nothing more than your protective presence. Our people have been led astray by our own hands. The sacred city is now a cesspit of corruption and crime. Don’t you see our suffering?

After my prayer, I rose from kneeling at the shrine. My shins ached because of the wear the tuffet endured the previous month. Countless faithful visited the sanctum at my temple, but the steady stream ceased this week. I practiced my faith alone on this occasion. It had been a month since God left but many had forgotten their faith. My entire congregation stopped attending and the laity had diminished to nothing. I witnessed the contempt in their eyes, day after day, because God didn’t grace us.

The other bishops of the city fared worse. The faithless performed sacrilege on the resting place of our absent God. The populace ransacked the other temples, looting sacred texts and idols. They brought them to the pit where the holy palace had resided. Previous petitioners turned rioters built a bonfire on the remains of the hallowed items.

My temple survived the turmoil by virtue of my faith. I convinced the city police to provide extra protections surrounding my place of worship. Their resolution faltered with each passing day. I barricaded the temple for the inevitable. Without the steadfast guidance of God, people were frightened.

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