Higher Power

I have a bone to pick and it's with the big man upstairs. Or with nature... maybe science. It would seem one of these three has an affinity with taking my loved ones from me. It's been a rough year, no doubt. This would be expected when the majority of your family is over the age of 70. However, the family has been thrown through loops. First my Grandmother is dying. Then she's miraculously recovering and is better than ever. Then my Great Aunt is dying. And then she's fine. And then my Uncle, only in his 50s, out of nowhere, was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, stage 4.

This of course was heartbreaking. One of the kindest, most intelligent, and logical men I have ever known, was being ripped from my family, too quickly, yet far too slowly, in the most painful of ways. In his last days we sat with him while he read us the the same children's books he read to me and his daughters as kids. We worked on puzzles together. He told us how much he loved us. He told me how proud of me he was and to follow my dream of film. And then he was taken from us. And it was awful. And the sadness and breakdowns and random bought of tears consumed months.

And then things started to go back to normal. And then they didn't.

My Grandmother, the woman that would buckle my seatbelt for me when I was little, and listened to Brittany Spears and Backstreet Boys and whatever else was on channel 95.5 at her own accord, who would sing "I love you a bushel and a peck" to me, and never ran out of hugs or kisses, she is sick. And sick is putting it too lightly, as she is, in fact, dying, as we all are. She isn't dying today, or at this moment, or tomorrow even, but she is dying. And it's so uncertain, and it's the New Year, and it's supposed to be a happy time but it's not. I feel sad. I feel very sad and I say I'm tired but I'm sad.

So here's my bone for whoever is in control, stealing my loved ones. Stop. Stop stealing our happiness, and our joy and the days of celebration. Let us be. Let us live, and do so happily. I think I'm an averagely intelligent person, but whoever you are, you're confusing me and I hate it.

I hate the lack of control, and the sadness, and the tears, and knowing that when I wake up tomorrow I better opt for the waterproof mascara instead of the normal goop cause who knows what the day will bring.

So stop it. Please.