There was a short period of time, when I was very young, that I believed only people I didn’t know would die. To be sure, I had no real idea what “die” meant, but it never happened to people I knew. And then, one day, it did. I don’t remember who the first person was, but I remember that it changed everything. It put the fear of death into me. Maybe it was my grandma. Or maybe it was that cute little neighbor friend who left on a trip somewhere with her family and never came back. I honestly don’t remember who the first person was who I knew I would never see again.
But, oh God, there have been so many since then.
One of the biggest lessons we learn as humans is the lesson of loss. As you grow up you lose people. And the older you grow the greater the chances that people you know are the ones dying. I think somewhere along our lives we all expect this. I remember who the first person that died from my high school graduation class was. It’s been a while since graduation so there have been many more. Most have died of accidents and diseases . But soon, very soon, I will hear about the first person of my graduating class having died of “old age”. Of course I might never hear it, but I hope I do, because if I don’t then it was probably me. And that would just about ruin my day.
I am not afraid to die. I am, however, afraid to leave certain people alone. I would want, if I had to go (I’m still looking for loopholes), to ensure that the people I leave behind will be okay without me. And because I am an adult I can do that to a certain extent. You know who can’t do that?
There is just no justification in the world (or outside of it) that can explain why children have to die. I have had no greater sadness in my long life than to have seen young lives lost. I could have died any day in the last 25 years and I would have still lived a nice long life and been okay with death coming for me. By then I had experienced enough things to say I had lived a full life.
But not kids. It is only when I see the children of this world die of things like disease, abuse, and hunger that I wonder if there is a God. I can explain and accept just about everything but that. I don’t believe in the acceptance of the existence of hungry and disease ridden children. In this day and age I would have thought we would have stopped it cold by now. I wonder what it says about us that we haven’t yet.
Ever since my grandson Andre got cancer, I have had a front row seat to the world of dying children. Yes, we have fighters and yes many children survive. But those are the miracles. Many children die every day. Where is their miracle?
I am so god damn tired of living in the ever so common days when children with cancer “get their wings”, or when heaven “gets another angel”. I am so fucking tired of it. Children can’t prepare us for a life without them. Nothing can. That’s not the way it’s supposed to be! Heaven has it’s own angels! It doesn’t need ours! Our kids don’t need wings! They just need a healthy body to grow up and run and live their life! This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be!! I hate this. I hate it with everything that I am.
I hate it. But mostly, I think, I hate us. I don’t know what God accepts or doesn’t. I don’t have any special insight into his plan. But I do know that these things wouldn’t happen if we didn’t accept them. We create so many miracles every day and maybe if we really wanted to we could create this one today. Not tomorrow, but today. Maybe we are his plan and we taking our damn time about it.
There will be a cure for all cancers some day, everyone accepts that fact. We just have to find it in our hearts to run to it. Not walk, but run. Run as fast as we can so no child need suffer these deadly diseases. No more wings for our kids. No more giving heaven any of our angels. We will all die some day. But every child should be given a chance to grow up and live. To explore the world and make it a better place. The world needs our little angels here.
It’s up to us.