A young girl, my age, died very recently.
I did not know her, but I know many people who did. I also did not do her funeral service. The funeral home up the street did.
The other day I searched her on Facebook. She looked happy. She changed her profile picture a few weeks back. I started to wonder if she’d ever think for one second that she wouldn’t live to see Christmas. (Probably not.)
My mom called me yesterday. A family friend called her to say that this girl died. Tragic isn’t even the word to use in this situation, my mom told me. It was a blood clot, she says. (I know now, that my mom is replacing me with this girl.)
I am not this girl, Mom. This is a one in a million thing, I tell her.
(But this could have been me.)
That’s the thing. It could have been anyone.
I used to think that everything happened for a reason. And while I still believe that certain events in our lives are meant to occur to help us with an even greater destiny, I also know now that some things are just plain random.
It could have been me. It makes you think.