Comets or the creation of heaven? This is a question I've been asking myself all week. It all manifested itself from two incidents that happened to me recently.

The first was a visit to the new astronomy centre at Blackrock castle. Fantastic as the place is, it unashamedley states that we really are the creation of millions of years of space age evolution.

The second was a TV documentary that catalogued mankinds unquestionable arrival from a a ball of dirt, ice and water which eventually led to Earth and all that grew upon it. If one is to really be rational and use common sense then surely the only conclusion that we can draw is that we really are not made in Gods likeness at all , but biologically through natural evolution.

This makes Jesus only one of many prophets who walked the planet at some time or another, it proves the clear non-existence of heaven and the realistaion that after we die, that's it.

This lesson in simple physics saddens me, I've had years of conditioning to believe that we really are only on a short journey upon this planet preparing for a greater place, for such a long time in the hereafter. It has recently been my hopeful belief that this is the place my mother has travelled to.

In fact, last week a very kind friend told me he'd had a message from her, for me, to tell me that she is alright. This is a lot more than I've had from my mother since she died eight months ago. I have tried every night to go to sleep thinking of her in the hope that she will come to me in a dream, but no luck so far.

What I can say is that I would dearly like to meet her again, and the hope that this might happen makes missing her a little easier. For those who have been through loss, of which nobody including me has any exclusivity, perhaps you will agree that it actually gets harder with the passing of days and weeks and months.

For me it was sad to watch my mother grow weak and frail and finally slip away. Its been made harder with the fact that although I knew she was dying I am still not sure how much she knew or how many people she confided in for that matter.

She never spoke to me of her fears or whether or not she was ready, close and all as the two of us were. I try to rationalise that she just found it too upsetting to say goodbye to me because she loved me so much, so it was better not to speak physical words. Instead we took short walks, listened to music, retold old stories, went for short drives.

I remember on one sad occasion driving with her and my father to Youghal beach, a place she loved, for what I knew would be her one last walk and it was.