Out of the blue also describes how grief hits more than 7 months after losing Charlie.
It's not like I don't think about him and what happened all the time. I do. So you'd think I wouldn't be able to be "surprised" by the sadness, the anger, the short-temperedness that hit me. But in some sense I am.
When I think about the hell Charlie had to endure, I am grateful his suffering ended when it did. It wasn't just a physical hell (though how else could one describe literal starvation, chemotherapy side effects, repeated ER visits and procedures, shortness of breath, and fluid retention?), but it was emotional and psychological hell for him too. His diagnosis came out of the blue. The worst of surprises. We both thought he had an ulcer. A simple damn ulcer. He felt like crap for almost 8 months and lost normalcy and was scared even while brave and watched all of us who loved him ache in our powerlessness. He handled it with amazing grace, but it was still horrific.
What I am not grateful for at all is any notion of strength I or others who really loved Charlie may have gained or found in the process. I am not grateful for any life lessons learned. And I am surely not grateful for nor do I believe that God had anything to do with choosing Charlie for this awful fate.
This week I have been easily angered by any implication, in person or online, that any of this is God's grand plan, and that I just don't get it because God is God and I am not. I think that is a cop out. We love to abdicate control to God when it serves our needs or explains away things we'd rather not solve. I think Charlie got sick and died because the world is broken and, imperfect creatures that we are, we humans have no idea how to really fix it. Yet.
And I wonder, really wonder, if people who can easily say or even imply that God's plans for those who are struck with illness are greater than we can fathom would feel the same way if they lost their child or parent or spouse or sibling in a drunk driving accident or due to a terrorist bombing or in a brutal murder. Because if dying from cancer can be seen in some twisted way as part of some grand God-plan, then why isn't murder or negligence or a freak accident explained away the same way? Why is it that terminal illness can be written off as means to a Divine blessed end, but murder is not? Wouldn't a God who would exert his/her will through disease have no qualms about doing the same through crime or human negligence? Why don't we praise God for serial killers and plane crashes in gratitude for the opportunities they present to be more faithful and forgiving and to grow into better people ourselves? And yet what kind of messed up loving deity would do any of the above?
These are thoughts -- from out of the blue -- that plague me some days. Today is one of those days. Tomorrow will likely be one too.
So, on that happy note, aren't you glad I decided -- out of the blue -- to dump these thoughts here for you to read?
