“Everything happens for a reason”
Really? Like what? Let me take a moment and get really sarcastic and ask the question; for what reason did my baby die?
Did he die because of some sort of karmic retribution? I am a terribly judgmental person, so did I say the wrong thing about someone and the Universe went “Oh girl, you have gone too far, so we are taking your baby. YOINK”
I am not a regular church goer, is that why? I fudged my taxes a few years ago? Didn’t correct the Tim Horton’s attendant when she told me my total? Is this over the free coffee I got? Seriously?
I discussed this last night with my beautiful cousin. She took me to a Raptors basketball game at the Air Canada Center. (They lost by the way)
My Grandmother had my Zia Maria before WWII. She also had my Zio Sal a few years after her. My Aunt died when she was 7 years old due to some sort of heart problem while my Grandfather was being held captive as a POW. She was sick for quite sometime and eventually succumbed. I try to imagine going through Xavier’s life and death without my beloved. The thought sickens me.
The strength she possessed to carry on with one living child and a husband at war makes what I went through seem trivial. Looking back now makes me feel guilty for not taking her tears when she spoke of Maria seriously. Like she was just being dramatic. I still remember her tears when she spoke of Maria. Even as an old woman.
When my Grandfather returned after the was was over, they had my father. He was never supposed to be. They were only going to have two kids. Maria died, so that I could live. And so the story goes on, reaching one more generation. Xavier died; who gets to live because he died?
Everything happens for a reason, and that fucking sucks.