Monday night I was
two beers into an evening of self pity and regret. I was, in fact, considering what I would do
if I should become completely hopeless.
As I sat in front of the TV, wallowing in depression, I received the
text that would kick-off a week of tragedy and sadness. Suddenly my mind was focused on someone else;
someone that I would never see again.
Friday morning, I was standing standing in the church talking to my brother-in-law waiting for the service to start. Looking at me through his thick glasses, he placed his hand on my shoulder and in a somber tone, with all the compassion he could muster, said “God has a plan”. As I considered his statement, he pulled a handkerchief
out of his pocket and wiped the perspiration from his upper lip. The temperature in the church was likely 100
degrees or more and I adjusted my necktie seeking relief from the sweltering
heat.
“Yes he does” I said dispassionately staring off in the
distance. What
I wanted to say was “Let me see if I have this straight… God planned for my nephew Steven to be born
with a defective brain that caused him to suffer from depression and anxiety. God thought it would be a good idea for him
to marry a young lady just two years ago and become a father to her three year
old son, when the ultimate plan was for Steven to stick a 9 MM Glock into his
mouth and pull the trigger leaving the wife with no husband and the boy with no
father? God’s plan sucks”.
