The big questions.

Sometimes it’s difficult to know what to say.  I have so many thoughts in my head, but they’re so much more confused than they used to be.  To begin with, in the first few weeks after Freddie’s death, it was easy to write about; it seemed to flow in a pure stream of sorrowful expression; I knew what I wanted to talk about, and it came out.  Now, it’s much more difficult.

I try not to ask the question, ‘why me?’, because it’s a question that no one can answer.  I remember thinking, after I’d lost our first baby, that I’d had a feeling that it was about time my luck ran out.  But when it happened again, it started to feel less like bad luck and more like a very extreme form of punishment. And it still feels that way; in fact it feels more like punishment the longer time goes on.  I do wonder at times if there is some reason why this happened to me, to us.  But I can’t think of one; I know I’ve never done anything bad enough to warrant such cosmic torture, and if I were to follow the ‘karma’ logic, then there would be lots of people being punished for things that they had done, and vice-versa, which doesn’t seem to fit.  And I think sometimes that it seems logical that we can’t have everything – I’ve been relatively lucky with so many other things in life, that it makes sense that there should be something that goes wrong…right?  But I know that there are people in the world who will never, ever experience anything even half as bad as what I’ve been through.

At first, I was so taken over by the grief of what happened, that there was less space for questioning, for reasoning; for trying to understand.  Now I have the grief and the space to question.  But I can’t understand.

I think that I’m lucky that I don’t believe in God.  If I did, and I thought that there was a person responsible for what’s happened to us, then I would be even more angry.

The problem is that I am angry, I just don’t know who with.

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