When someone dies, Ive found that people, myself included, always scramble for a reason. An explanation. We need to know. We WANT to know. What happened? How did they die? What went wrong? Why wasn’t something more done? The questions lead to anger, and denial. To frustration, to guilt. All because we need to know, we need to know why. Why. It’s the smallest, biggest question there is. Loaded with so much meaning.
Yesterday, Madison brought in one of the neighbor chickens, who over the past few months, she has formed a bond with. She brings it in every so often, and I always tell her to make sure that he doesn’t leave behind anything when he goes. Yesterday she wanted to show me something. She hauled him up to where I was sitting, and told me a thing or two to which I nodded, uh huh’d and she walked off. “Watch this!” she set the chicken down before I had the chance to say anything and ran to where I was…the chicken ran after her, and she erupted into laughter. I nodded, and turned back to what I was doing.
The chicken, fell over.
I didn’t know that was even possible, for a healthy looking normal animal…to just fall over.
Apparently Madison didn’t either because her smiles instantly turned to tears, and screams. She begged for a few minutes for it not to go, asked what was wrong with him more than once, and when the chicken finally stopped moving…she ran to the bathroom and locked herself in.
Earlier in the day, my mom and I had another argument. Over something that I am trying to do. Shes all for me doing it, she just thinks that Im going about it the wrong way – she puts, what I call unrealistic mountains in front of people and their decisions, and then encourages them to hike their way over this mountain, all while knowing it isn’t possible…and when they cant do it, she will sit there and tell you “Told you so.” Over and over and over again until she thinks that you have “Learned.”
When I told her that I was going to do what I was trying to do, the way that I thought that I should, we had an eruption, a clash of opinions, and an exchange of words. Because I wont do it the way she thinks it should be done, she would argue her way using things against me that she knew would work…and eventually, she told me that because of what I was doing, and HOW I was doing it…things would not work out. She went on to explain that I was being punished. My way of life, my choices, my decisions, were wrong…and the things that had happened in my life…the deaths that had occurred, were a direct punishment. That I was the reason the kids had to live this way – that because of my choices, the punishment was falling on them, and would continue to do so until I changed.
And then Madison walked in with the chicken. Set it down, and ran towards me with it following behind her…
While she sat there beside it, screaming and begging for a reason to “Why this was happening” my mom looked me straight in the eyes, said “Ask your uncle” and walked away.
Its left me with an uneasy feeling since then.
I know Madison missed out on the former part of the conversation, and she has no idea that what is happening to her is a direct result of something, whatever it may be, I did. But she wants answers. She wants to know why. Why would a chicken just fall over and die?
And I have no explanation. I have no idea. I don’t know what happened. There is no logical reason why.
I let her talk, and let her cry, and didn’t say much of anything and then she said she didn’t want to talk about it anymore.
I just wonder, how much of what was said…is true.
To be honest, Im scared to move. Convinced that breathing will somehow bring more of this “Punishment” to the kids. Because of something that Ive done.