I could write about how my son all of a sudden loves to sit on my lap, and the massive amount of cheek nomming that ensues. I could write about finally having time to be crafty and how that’s somehow more fulfilling than I thought it would be. I would write about how I miss my brother and wish I could see him more often, and how much he has meant to me over the years. I could write about so much, but the only thing weighing in my heart is Meg, and how she is no longer with us.
Meg was a little girl that lived in my neighborhood. She developed a brain tumor and fought a valiant fight for a long time. Unfortunately, heartbreakingly, unfairly, she lost her battle last Monday. She was just eight years old.
Now, I’m not going to sit here and say that was an avid supporter of her cause, or that I even know the family, because I wasn’t, and I don’t. I loosely kept up with her ‘story’ and wondered how the family can cope with such horrible circumstances. But her death really hit me hard.
Her online obituary had a slide show of pictures of her life. A happy little baby girl, who grew in a happy little girl, with birthday parties, princess clothes, hugs from loved ones, pictures of her artwork. You could see slowly how she changed, her eyes becoming darker, sometimes being in a wheelchair. But her bright smile remained the same. If you didn’t know, her smile and the sparkle in her eye would make you think there was nothing wrong.
My heart aches for her family. How do the parents go on? How do they walk past her room knowing that they’ll never be able to tuck her in at night again? That they’ll never hug her with immense pride when she graduates college? That they’ll never walk her down the aisle on her wedding day? How do they go about their morning ritual, packing one less lunch box, kissing one less cheek on the way out the door?
My heart aches for her and all the things she never got to experience. No first date, no first kiss, no graduation, no first time driving by herself…not even a PG13 movie (probably).
And my heart also aches for the things she did experience that she really shouldn’t have, like all the medical procedures, facing her mortality, saying her final goodbyes, and at some point, telling herself that she had to let go before passing away.
Selfishly, the whole thing reminds me that it could happen in my life. My baby boy could be stricken with some horrible condition and lose his life. I might have to watch him slowly lose his life. I can hold him as much as possible, soak up every instant that I can with him, but that really wouldn’t make me feel better if the worst happened, would it? I don’t know that I’d be able to handle it. How Meg’s family is doing it, I don’t know.
Why does this happen? There are so many horrible people out there that just coast through life like nothing happens, and then there are people who are put through the wringer for no reason whatsoever. It just doesn’t make sense to me. Even if she or her family were the worst people on earth (which they are not) and desperately needed to be taught a cosmic/karmic lesson, does that justify making a little girl suffer and then ultimately lose her life?
None of this makes sense, and I don’t think it ever will. The best we can do is assume there’s a reason for it, and hope we’ll someday find out.