“Why
did you do that?”
“I
don’t know,” I say, and it’s the most truthful thing I’ve said all day. We
don’t always act out of awareness. We don’t always do things for a purpose.
Sometimes we strike out at the world, at life, fumbling blindly in our own
personal dark for reasons we can’t even express to ourselves.
Was
that why Katie’s killer did what he did? Did he need a reason for taking my
daughter, our daughter, away from the
world?
Yes. Yes, goddammit, he did and he
does. There has to be a reason that things happen. If there isn’t a reason,
then I’m fucked. We’re all fucked. We’re all swimming in muck for no reason
until someone plucks us out and chucks us in the trash can. I want to, need to,
have to believe that there is a purpose for things to happen as they do.
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