Why??

"Why?"

I've always been chained to this word, reaching and grasping for the fleeting answer to this horrible question. Tonight is one of those nights, and I still wonder. My Pop passed away last Saturday at the age of 96, and anyone would say, "What a wonderful thing to live so long and to have the opportunity to experience so many things!!" I agree. But not everyone gets to be 96 when they die, and not everyone, especially my Memo, think it's such a "wonderful thing." So I'm posed with my returning, ever-present "why" question: Why did my dad have to go first, then his dad, and FINALLY my great-grandpa? Where is the justice in that? And as the years go by, and his memory fades a little more in everyone's mind but mine, why is that fair in God's eyes? And as I watch my mom fall in love more and more with another man, regardless of how great he is, why is that deemed as justice? Maybe justice for her, but what about me, Gabe, and Raschael? Why is it even possible that he'll never know his grandchildren or have a kid-given title? Why is it even possible that he can't experience things in our lives like Gabe's new house or worst of all, that he can't experience getting to walk Raschael down the aisle next month? Why?

Maybe if they had been divorced it would have been easier to watch my mom suffer, just because I would know she could "put him behind her" so much better if he had been a jerk or an adulterer or abusive or any other thing on the planet besides kind, cheerful, generous, compassionate, tender-hearted, and long-suffering. Maybe if they'd been divorced it would be easier for me to imagine that place in Mom's heart being filled by someone else. Maybe if we'd been separated from him over more time or with less pain and suffering it would be easier to piece together what used to be our family. But I'll never know. I'll never be able to ask questions I always wanted answers for, or sit on the couch and sing together, or hold his hand just because. And I'll never, ever know what could have been. When does it get easier, and why do I have to feel this way at all? Sometimes it's just too much to think about--too much to justify.

So I take a look at the novel of my life in its latent, "first-draft" state. I wonder where I'm at and look at my life, gazing thoughtfully at the details of every page. Nights like tonight when I reflect make me wonder about tomorrow. Am I invested properly? Will I get 47 years or 96? Will I be finished on earth, or will I have all these open chapters with no endings? Will I have regrets, and will the people I love share those regrets, always asking why they never got resolved, or talked about, or even brought up at all? Will there be things left undone? Will I have wounded or healed? Will I have helped or hurt? Will I have left a legacy? Will my memory be enough to last a lifetime or just a few years? Will it matter...or not?

I won't forget. I've even tried, and it doesn't work. I miss you, Daddy! I want you here with me so bad it hurts! Not just for me, but for your family and everyone who loves you. I'm not ready to put your memory aside or away or on a back shelf. So many days I don't want to wait for heaven, and some days it's just hard to watch everything around me change in ways I never expected it to. What would it have been like to have you here today? What would be different, and what would have never changed?

Why?