Tonight I was in the middle of writing a hilarious post about awkward sex talk (hi Mom), and paused to go to a rally for a seven-year-old child with a brain tumor that will murder him just by growing and following its nature, and so it felt gross to return to making jokes about absurd adult squishy situations.
He is going to die. There is no potential for recovery.
It's the saddest thing I can imagine, having to watch in frustration as you or your child slowly withers to debilitation and dies. Sorry to put that in your brain. But when you're confronted with unfathomable circumstances that push you down the steep, slippery slopes of depression into an inescapable chasm of despondency, the only logical response is to drag others into your ball-pit of sadness.
The rally was beautiful, an entire community gathering to give him a special moment of positivity to help define his life. I don't know the family or the child or his friends or family friends, and I'm not self-aggrandizing enough to think may participation meant anything. But there's a universal frustration over an uncontrollable injustice and profound sadness of an all-to-soon death with which we can all sympathize and empathize.
Who knows what happens after death. I hope this child, who has lost the use of his legs and is going blind in one eye because an inoperable tumor is swelling and crushing his brain, gets the chance to see a Heaven, saunter up to the gates, demand to see whatever God fits his belief system, and gets to ask, "Kion diable?" Because I assume they've all adopted the universal language of Esperanto in Heaven, (Google Translate has an Esperanto translation option in case you're not William Shatner, the star of the only all-Esperanto language movie, Incubus.) And either get a satisfactory answer, or karate chop that deity in its "mysterious ways" if there's some vague, ephemeral answer.
Hopefully, there's a reason for all of us, some deity waiting to explain the divine providence behind things like premature, agonizing death, or at least some sort of justice. Otherwise, "Vi estas merdo kapon, Dio."