My friend’s 33 year old sister died today. She has 5 kids, the oldest of whom is 8 years old. She had lost a newborn in April and never recovered emotionally from the loss. She had just left her husband and moved with the kids from Connecticut to Maryland to start a new life near her family and away from the husband who blamed her for all of his problems. I remember a poem that I learned when I was younger, but I don’t know who wrote it: “When old folks die, I don’t cry - it’s time. But when the young ones go, it grieves me so. The sharpest sorrow is for what could have been.” Actually, for today, I think that sharpest sorrow is for those kids, most of whom will get to know their mom through pictures and stories. I can accept that there is a lot about life that I don’t understand, and I believe that things happen for a reason, but still, the only words that I have today, like too many days before, are “what the hell?” And then I remember that since life keeps bringing me to my knees, I might as well take advantage of the posture and pray.