In which our heroine waxes metaphysical

I am sitting in my final office hour of the week, with my final class of the week scheduled for 1 PM.

I have been having trouble focusing all week. I hope to get it together over the weekend, but first week of classes, then my birthday, then her birthday, then the anniversary of my mother's death (10 years), then his birthday, then Valentine's day, then the anniversary of my brother's death, followed by the anniversary of my father's death, all within 3 weeks, is a bit much to deal with.

There were a couple of times this week, one in particular, when I had to repeat what a good friend gave me as a mantra--"Not today."

Last night I looked out into the darkness from the front porch and said, out loud, "I just wish I understood why you had to go."

I realized that I have to believe there is a reason. I have to believe there is more than now--a purpose, a cycle, a plan, an arc that extends before and after us. Because if there isn't, then we are just organisms, and there really is nothing to ethics except enlightened self-interest, there is nothing to the raising of children except gratification, there is no reason to do anything that doesn't promote our own selfish survival, as comfortably as possible, as long as possible. I can't live in a world where that is the point of life--an accident of biology.

So I have to believe there is a reason he left when he left. Why he was taken, released...however you want to term it. Because if there was no reason, there is nothing.

But I have good friends; I am loved. I have work I believe in, and colleagues who I'm usually proud to know.

I have a good life. I know that.

Sometimes, though, my heart just isn't on the same page as my logic.