How Does This Thing Work

Have you ever wondered how people who have had unfair negative life events can go on with their lives? I often do. It is difficult to imagine being handed a life like those of some Haitians, then, on top of poverty, hunger, disease, lack of education, and abuse, you get an earthquake piled on top of you. How does that work for people? Do they run back to church and pray that God doesn’t hurt them further? On the other hand, is it God that has anything to do with such things?

My brother died in 2004, my best friend in 2006, and my father in 2009. These are pretty life altering events. However, I did not lose everything. I did not need to lie down and die, myself. I grieved, and still do. Sadness pervades some moments in my life, but overall, I am a happy person and glad to be alive.

I have put myself in the place of people in Haiti, or people with terminal diseases who have had other unfair major life events occur. How do they go on living? Would you not want to just lie down and let the earth swallow you up?
Whom do you blame? Whom do you forgive? It seems as if we all have to have a finger to point; it makes us feel better…then, of course, there is the matter of forgiveness. I forgive you, God. I forgive you, Who? What is there to forgive when a life altering disaster is caused by natural forces? How can anyone forgive that? So, if there is a God, why are the Haitians suffering so much and my fat ass is sitting in a new car eating cake and drinking Starbucks?
Am I ready to give up the Starbucks and everything else that I consider a luxury in my life? No, not really. Though I wonder why it is that some of us have so much, and some have nothing. Couldn’t there be something in-between?

Those are all questions I have no way of answering. I admit I have faith, and I believe in God most of the time. I would just love to know how this thing works, this life of ours…what are the forces that drive our fates? If you find out, let me know.

My grandmother stood on the tarmac. I could see her little white hankerchief waving in the breeze. She had on a pair of those black tie up old lady shoes, the ones you see in movies. Her dress was sheer cotton with pearl buttons up the front. I could see her crying and waving. My grandfather was behind the metal fences. His pained look was visible just behind my grandmother's right shoulder. They would only let one person into the loading area, so my grandmother was the one who walked us to the plane.

I had no way to know that I would never see either one of them again. In my childish excitement, I only cared about the plane and all that went with it. I had flown before, but I could not remember it. This was for me, a great adventure. My sister on the other hand, had already begun getting sick, the beginning of a childhood penchant for motion sickness.

I wish I could have known that it would be the last time I would see my grandparents. I wish there was something I could have done or said that would have made a difference. I don't know what happened to them. I've heard stories, none of them pleasant. Perhaps they paid dearly for getting my sister and I out of the country. I'll never know.

When the Only Hope Is a Peaceful Ending

Jane Brody wrote “Jane Brody’s Guide to the Great Beyond,” which deals with death and dying in a more contemporary and personal way. In this article she details some of the story of saying goodbye to her husband of 40 years, after he was diagnosed with metasticized inoperable lung cancer.

The decisions Ms. Brody and her family made regarding her husband's care were humane and loving. My wish is that everyone who is experiencing this terrible scenario is able to provide such a comforting and supportive end for their loved ones. I would have liked Joey to be cared for in this way. It would have been a kindness to allow him to be cared for by providing him a safe and painless place to end his days. Sadly, we were not the ones making those decisions.

A Fatal Diagnosis, Followed by Goodbyes
By JANE E. BRODY
Published: March 15, 2010
This is a very personal story of living gracefully with a fatal diagnosis.

Uncle Lenny Doesn’t Live Here Anymore

This is a moving story about an Uncle who has Alzheimer's. My dad, Oscar had Alzheimer's. It was hard to tell if he understood us, or exactly what was going on inside of him during the last two years of his life. He wasn't a nice guy so a lot of conversations with him were mostly hearing him grunt at whatever you said, or anger. Which essentially is an Alzheimer's type of response. Maybe Oscar just had Alzheimer's his whole life.

Uncle Lenny Doesn’t Live Here Anymore