The part of my mind that wants everything to be simple, easy, and good orients, by default, to these sort of explanations, as though the vast majority of our moments--the good and the bad ones--are not dictated nearly entirely by chance. One errant clump of cells which becomes terminal at age 29 or a series of numbers chosen at random which leads to sudden wealth or the kind of chance that your mother and father met at all and you became more than just a near-statistical impossibility.
Here are some good, easy rules for the universe to attempt to incorporate into life from now on:
1) Shitty people get a shitty lot and only hurt other shitty people.
2) Good, kind people live disproportionately blessed lives and die, peacefully, at 95 with their bodies and minds intact surrounded by loved ones and their passage into the next place is aided by the best, most body-loving pharmaceuticals to make everything good and decent and humane.
The only alternative to instantaneous implementation of the above two rules is a true embrace with chaos and the looming knowledge that tomorrow is simply a wish on our lips each night as we close our eyes. And knowing that we are all simply ashes and dust, there is the acknowledgement that every moment we have with one another is irreplaceable, essential, and deserves our full presence.
I wish we could stay here together without end. There is already so much missing to carry. Because I know without doubt that we can't have forever, I hope you know that I have loved you more deeply than should be permissible. I apologize if even a minute lapsed in my attention while you explained the most important truths of your heart. All of this, even the worst of it, was made lighter and truer and more beautiful because it was with you.
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