You know, I’m very intrigued by the unknown. I marvel over the vastness of the universe and what could possibly be out there. I get all excited over things we don’t know, like what causes people to have special abilities we don’t understand, and why some people don’t. I’m blown away by the questions of our ancient past here on this earth, what killed the dinosaurs (probably a meteor), the questions of the pyramids and what they were really built for. I’m tickled to no end when I wonder about all the ancient paintings on rocks and inside caves of images we would not think someone of that time period knew anything about. I’m amazed that structures that would be difficult to build today were built in a time when we thought mankind was nowhere near that sophisticated. I wonder what heaven is and what exactly waits for us when we die. I love investigative crime stories because I love to try to figure out who done it and see how they figure it out. I love movies that are mysterious and you spend your whole time during the movie spellbound trying to figure out everything until the surprising end. I love movies that shock me to no end at the final moment.
I love all mysterious things that I have to ponder. But one mystery that I hate is the mystery to why my daughter took her life (or more accurately….why was she cursed with the depression that took her life) when she had SO much to give this world? I’ve spent almost a year trying to figure this out and I’m no farther into figuring it out than I was the moment I found out she was gone.
When I look at her pictures that span her 23 years and see and remember all the special gifts my daughter had and just what a unique and wonderful person she was, my heart screams at her loss and the injustice of it.
I hate this mystery. But I do know one thing; it makes no sense and it is so unfair. Why do we lose anyone like this? Why do we lose our best like this? Why does someone have so much intelligence that the very intelligence they have is what makes them feel so alone?