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I don't pretend to understand the vagaries of the Universe. Why did my brother, whom I loved dearly and who touched a lot of people, die at 25 in a stupid accident, when my worthless uncle who shoots up, yells at my grandmother, and passes out has made it to 45? Who knows what each person is supposed to learn in this lifetime, or how long it will take them to do it, or what their spirit needs? I would gladly have moved in with my brother and carted him around in a wheelchair and fed him if that's what it took just to have one more year, or even one more day with him, but that's not the life he wanted. His death had meaning for me, just as his life did. I don't understand it and it's not the way I wanted things to happen, but there's nothing I can do about it and railing at the Universe will only make me more unhappy.
The sooner you stop seeking justice and start seeking wisdom the happier you'll be.
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"If ten million people believe a foolish thing, it is still a foolish thing."
- Anatole France
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