There are some stories that are too awful to speak out loud. There are stories so horrifying that even the characters in the starring roles cannot fathom the depths of the hell from which they come. These are the stories we bury deep within ourselves so that we may spare loved ones and strangers alike from the nightmares we know will come in the midnight hour. These are the stories that we quietly weave into the fabric of our being...maybe making us seem a little different or making us just a little bit sad to outsiders. These are the stories that ultimately define who we are.
And so goes the story of our Little Bug.
There are a few simple things that we will share.
First...
We have some amazing friends and family. We love you and we hope that we show you a fraction of the thanks and appreciation you deserve. We are so so so lucky to have you in our lives. Thank you for hoping with us during the last 19 weeks...for risking the heartbreak. Thank you for sharing your distractions with us when our world shattered into a million bits again and again and again.
Thank you, most of all, for loving us always.
Second...
We will never know "why" or "what happened"...so please do not ask.
Third...
We know there are the usual grief markers we will have to pass in the coming weeks. We also know how incredibly lucky we are...how much is good in our lives...please do not think we have lost sight of that. If anything can heal a soul, it is the warmth of a ratty old sweatshirt, or the comforts of home, or the endless chatter of a 7-year-old about the magic of Ben 10 Alien Force, or the monster voices of a two-year-old with a contagious giggle. Please do not worry about us. We will be ok. Just be patient.
Fourth...
I do not believe there is a God. I am sure I will lose friends (and possibly the love of family members) because of this. I do not care. I also will not justify it. The hell I have just witnessed for the last four days leads me to this one undeniable conclusion.
I won't challenge those who dare to convince me otherwise. I also won't try to convince them that I am right. Because I have been to that place...where most people can't even imagine in their worst nightmares...where nothing can ever be set "right" again and you know it is pointless to try. In that place, there is no fluffy warm cloud on which everything is ok. No fluffy warm sentiment that makes it all right. Only harsh, cold realities that people have to deal with in the here and now...with no right or wrong...and certainly no promises for a tomorrow.
The only fluffy warm sentiment comes from the amazing capacity of people to care for one another...to make life a little easier in big and small ways...to perform acts of kindness that leave indelible marks on the lives of others. THAT is where hope lives for me.
Fifth...
Given the above, anger directed at God on our behalf is wasted energy. And while Steve and I both appreciate that people love us enough to be inspired to that level of emotion, we do not want the legacy of our Little Bug to be one of anger. Before it all went to shit, Little Bug was a source of much love and hope...and peace...for us. We have to believe that that remains somewhere though it may temporarily be lost in the bleeding wounds of fresh grief. If nothing else, please do this one thing...let Little Bug's legacy be one of love and hope and peace.