Never once did she question the loss of her husband and son. No one heard her mention even one, “Why me?” There was simply too much to do. After the initial shock, there were burial plans, sending notices out to all the relatives, friends and associates. The non-stop messages from her phone and people stopping by to drop off food and murmur words of consolation.
The services required her full attention. She dutifully wrote and delivered eulogies, wiping away the tears as she spoke. The last shovel of earth did not conclude the process, it was barely the beginning. When all that ended, there was a house to clean and a million emails and cards to answer. It was an immense task, but she hammered away at it day after day.
When her hands became too cramped from writing thank-you’s, there were endless bills to pay, finding all the right papers, filing them with the insurance, the lawyer and then the court.
Of course there were the same questions, “Did you know?” “How did it happen?” “Were there signs?” And the rest. She responded to them all with the same lines that after a short while came out mechanically. “Yes, this is terrible. There was no warning, no signs. Thanks for coming. It means a lot.”
She was stalwart and determined to get everything done correctly. So it went for months on end.
Through it all, she never threw her fists up to heaven or cursed God. She remained silent. Unlike Job, she turned her back on faith and never looked back.
Why should she? They lied to her. All of them; her teachers, faith leaders, her parents, everyone. There was no justice in these needless deaths. Stripped of her companion and child she could only retreat into non-belief. If there was a God, he was heartless and cruel. Since that left a malevolent universe the only other choice was to abandon faith.
Such is the story of many who have through neglect or deliberate thought have drifted from their anchor.
What is the antidote for such a psychic unmooring?
Love. Even if it hurts.
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