Hey God, it’s me, Michael. Why did you kill my grandpa? He was the sweetest, kindest, gentlest man in the world. I loved him. But you killed him. Why?
They say it’s part of your plan. What plan is that? The one where you kill harmless sweet old men? I can’t support that.
Some say it was his time. I don’t think he would say that. Why wouldn’t he say that? Oh, because you killed him, God. He doesn’t say anything anymore.
I cried today. A lot. Even more yesterday. What’s up with that, God?
Does this pain make me a better person? Does it build my character? I choose to trade this life lesson in for another moment with my grandpa.
I just want him to know how much I love him. I hope he knew that. I know he knew his children loved him.
I want to spend another moment with him. But I can’t, God, because in your infinite wisdom, you killed him.
Where is the justice in that?
These are hard questions. Hard questions for hard times. And there are no answers for these hard times. I can only endure and hope the sun rises again.
I am in pain. I am grieving. And I will get over it. But I don’t want to get over it. Because this is all I have left of my grandpa.