He was here. Four years hasn’t changed that, nor could forty.
Sometimes I wish there were rhyme or reason to the universe, but clearly (to me, anyway) there just isn’t.
There’s never going to be a good reason why I got to bring Ike home safely but Mo didn’t get the same chance with Nadav.
Shit doesn’t happen, in life or in death, for reasons that can actually help us deal with the shit that happens.
There isn’t a damn thing I can say that could help Mo feel less alone…but I can remember. Even if it is in the abstract, which of course it is for me, I can remember what I remember, if not what Mo can. And so I shall.
Counting kicks and crying at my desk at work, wondering how the fuck could this possibly be okay, ever….
He was here.