Why did my child die? Why did my husband die? Why is this happening? Does the universe have a vendetta or blood libel against me personally? Some sort of cosmic score that needed to be settled?
For real though, I don’t struggle with this. Because the fact is no matter what the answer, how profound or perfect it might be, it will not change anything.
Nothing will bring back my child and husband. And, frankly, not much would make me feel better about it. Having answers won’t fill these holes in my heart. Having answers won’t suddenly make my anti-depressant unnecessary. My heart won’t de-shatter. Having answers to these questions only God and/or the universe could answer won’t give either of them back to me.
Unanswerable questions are nothing but a burden on my soul. Constantly asking for something I’ll never get is relentless and futile.
The weight of the losses is already so heavy.
Asking unanswerable questions is just added noise on my quest for peace and grace.
I don’t quibble internally because I don’t care. I don’t care if there was a greater good served or if they just died because that’s how the chaos of life works. I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care. I have better things to do.
Don’t get me wrong – sometimes I love a good waste of time. This past Sunday I watched 18 hours of TV and drank a half bottle of wine. I appreciate wasted time and added noise – on my terms; with my permission.
Screaming into an abyss is 0 stars. Would not recommend.