So many people talk about God’s plan, say that they are comforted because their child is with God, because their loss must be part of some greater meaning. It just feels like a cop out to me — just as with drinking or shopping or drugs, it’s an external crutch to avoid really dealing with this terrible thing.
You’re dead. I have to live with that. I don’t believe it was part of some deity’s plan, but even if it was, I still have to deal. They push me to these groups, but this feeling makes me such an outsider. How am I the only one to know your life should have meaning outside of an old dusty book?
Jessica* said she was mad at God. If there’s anyone out there at all, I think he can go to hell.
One year ago today I found out you were real. You will always be my beautiful dream. I love you.
* Names have been changed to protect privacy.