There was a crazy storm here the week of the 9th. It was calm, then windy like a tornado, then crazy calm again. The lights went out, sirens were blaring everywhere, and I rad had at my husband because he’d been short with me. But with the crazy calm silence I couldn’t stop the thought: what if something happened to him? I don’t know if I can live through being a widow again. I should surely be suicidal. That is my biggest fear. I don’t think about it add often anymore, but every once in a while it will hit me. It could happen again.
The big beautiful sky can be clear and blue one moment, then the wind picks up and things start falling down. And when it’s all done, there’s nothing to do but clean up and start over.
It seems unfair somehow – so random and final. But that is life and death, I suppose, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Nothing at all but look at the damage, try to remove it and heal all the scars so that no one can tell it ever happened.