Everything Happens for a Reason and Other Suspicious Platitudes 


If you’re looking for a way to make me angry all you have to do is utter these five words, EVERYTHING HAPPENS FOR A REASON. I’m talking, STARK, RAVING, FUCKING MAD, kind of angry.

You do not get to collect $200, you do not get to pass GO, and you definitely don’t get to buy any properties on Boardwalk or Park Place if you look at me with those sad, sad eyes and tilted head while you say to me, EVERYTHING H APPENS FOR A REASON.

I want to yell, and scream, and ask, what fucking reason could there be for us both to get cancer, and what possible reason could there be for me to get it twice? What possible reason could there be for Chuck to die? What was he? Some kind of sacrificial fucking lamb? Are you out of your fucking mind? What the hell is wrong with you?


In quiet moments, the thought does creep into my battered brain, that cancer and grief actually did make me a better person. My friend Angel says, the universe tosses pebbles; then, if you don’t notice the pebbles it throws rocks then finally boulders if it hasn’t gotten your attention yet.

A whole freaking avalanche had to fall on me for me to finally notice and see myself. A myself, I really love. It took digging out from under the pebbles, and rocks, and boulders, and icy, cold snow, and rubble of the disastrous turn my life took, for me to acknowledge and accept my own self-worth. So, I guess EVERYTHING DOES HAPPEN FOR A REASON.


You, yes, you, there in the back, with the sad, sad, eyes, goofy smile and tilted head; if you tell me, EVERYTHING HAPPENS FOR A REASON, I will still shout obscenities and throw plates at you. You’ve been warned.