God

I talked to someone today. A fellow ... I don't know what the word for us is. Widow/widower is a census label. It connotates the inevitable result of a full life. The loss of a spouse in your 60's/70's/80's seems natural if no less painful. And in that case the label fits. But who are we that lost are loved ones before THEIR time? We don't grieve for ourselves. We grieve for them. It was not natural for their lives to be taken before their time. Either suddenly or slowly it doesn't matter. Self induced or not. They were beautiful people and God took them before... before he had a right to.

And we are angry. And we are self-righteous. My fellow "?" reminded me that it wasn't God that took them. That it was our world. Environmental carcinogens. Addictions nurtured by crappy childhoods or natural predilections. Bad luck or lousy drivers.... etc. etc. etc. Our fates were sealed in the Garden of Eden. No good without bad. No yin without yang. Millions ... billions have suffered in human history. Children suffer through out the world, in our cities, next door. It could be worse. Or so the rationalization goes.

But that doesn't suffice. And so we reserve the right, in our belated beloved's honor, to be mad at God for as long as we want. God, will just have to deal with that.

Epilogue

Wikipedia defines an epilogue as "a piece of writing at the end of a work of literature or drama, usually used to bring closure to the work." But I don't like the terms "closure" or "moving on" when it comes to talking about Robin. It sounds too dismissive to me. Her spirit lives on her children and our memories and I don't think any of us want to "move on" from that memory.

So April 21st will mark the one year anniversary of the last time we heard Robin's voice. Almost a year. A year of the phone ringing and it not being her - something I know has been hard for all of us. I promise that if I can find a suitable clip of her I will try to put it on the blog so that we all can hear her again.

Easter is coming up and if Robin were here I'm sure she would already have it all planned. I'd say she made a big deal out of Easter but she made a big deal out of every holiday. But for some reason Easter feels different. She always wanted to make the baskets from scratch and I remember thinking how much work that was when you could just buy one. But she always wanted to make them. She also liked to give the kids a present on Easter. And it seemed we'd go to multiple Easter egg hunts. Once, she even managed to get my whole family up for a sunrise Easter service at the beach. Unfortunately, once she was diagnosed, I couldn't help wondering each Easter if it would be the last.

As I'm writing this Anthony came to me and asked me how long until Easter. Then he said that each year he gets something but this year he wasn't sure that he will get what he wants. It's so hard to tell what the kids are thinking.