I'm sitting here watching my daughter being born, three days after the death of my best friend. They say every time someone dies, a child is born. I want to thank him for that, for being a friend, for my healthy child. I'm mourning his life, and celebrating hers. Life is so fragile, and I'll never understand it. The gift of birth, and the curse of death. Is this what God had planned for us when he put us her.

Her little fist are balled up, and she won't even open up her eyes. In time she'll open them, and I know they'll be beautiful. He'll never open his eyes again because he balled up his fist. I'll teach her not to do that, be better person that he was, than I am. 

It shouldn't take a child being born to show me I'm living wrong, but it shouldn't cost my best friend's life either. If I don't change, both of their lives are in vain. 

Post a Comment