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Musings of the Smart Girl with Pink Hair and High Heels (Senselessness)

Her death was so out of the blue. She was so young, so how could she have had enough time? How is it fair that she should die so young?

She had so much more life to live. I am guessing the burning fire in her heart, with the passion to live, couldn’t withstand the betrayal of her body.

What is the plan in all of this? I know there is one, but why let her die so young?

In the scope of life, she was just a baby. She was innocent and just trying to find herself like the rest of us.

She wanted to become a doctor. Why couldn’t she have lived, so she could save lives? She would have made a difference in this world and left a great legacy.

She loved music. She played her violin all the time, but she was also accomplished at playing the piano. Why cut that short? Music always touches people’s lives.

It was said at the funeral that she had come and done what she had needed to do. She had completed all she could and it was her time to go home.

I miss her.

But I can’t find comfort. I prayed so hard for Jesus to save her. To let her live to make the decision for heaven or to welcome he in his warm and healing embrace, but I don’t know what was in her heart. I want so badly to say she is living in joy and peace now, but I can’t say that because I don’t know.

Everyone is comforted by the fact she is in heaven, but I am so worried we could be wrong. But, what a cruel world it would be if one as great as her couldn’t be welcomed into the kingdom. If she couldn’t have just had one more chance…

Where is she?

Why did she have to die?

Baggage Claim (Part Eight)

Blood trickled down Chance’s face. He lay unconscious in his mangled car.

A man stepped out of the SUV. He stealthily moved closer to Chance’s defenseless body. Light caught on the silver plated handgun clutched in his fist. The gun pointed at Chance’s head in one swift moment.

The black streets were completely quiet. Nothing seemed to move, as if the Earth was holding her breath, anxiously begging Chance to wake up. Moments slowly passed and the only audible sounds were the slow compression of the gun’s trigger and the slow tapping of gas dripping to the ground.

A vibration of a phone sliced through the heavy silence. The humming gently pierced Chance’s consciousness and he began to stir. Groggy, he tried lifting his laden head, but he felt so bruised and weak.

He reached for his phone on the last vibration, but missed the incoming call.

The loud gunshot ran through the night. Chance instinctively ducked. The bullet pierced the steering wheel where Chance had just rested his head. Gunshots peppered the outside of Chance’s car.

With his mind still clouded from the crash, Chance could only hide and pray that the bullets wouldn’t hit him.

Chance knew the gunman was approaching. The volume of each successive gunshot was increasing steadily. He had to find a way out.

Adrenaline started to kick in. Chance reached under the passenger seat.

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Musings of the Smart Girl with Pink Hair and High Heels (Taylor, I Miss You)

It happened so suddenly.

Some platelets piled up in the wrong vein. She fell down to her knees and no one could possibly predict what horror would encompass the next few days.

She lay peacefully on the ground, but things were seriously wrong.

They rushed her to the hospital. She never fully woke up again.

There was a blood clot in her brain. They operated… And operated… And operated again.

The bleeding wouldn’t stop.

News traveled to me. I prayed for so long.

The prognosis was bleak.

My prayer morphed into a cry for the guardian to save her. To either save her for another day to make the choice for eternal life, or to just be welcomed in His arms.

It was just twenty days before she would turn nineteen. She let her last breath escape and she slipped away. I pray she was welcomed into loving arms.

Our days are numbered and you never know when an accident will happen or simply your body could betray you.

Don’t make a mistake in what you believe.

Baggage Claim (Part Seven)

Chance pressed the gas petal harder and swerved around another slow moving car. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. Thoughts of rescuing Genevieve from her worst nightmare forced his protective instincts to rise within him and panic pricked his spine.

Honking horns blared in the background, but Chance ignored them. Focusing solely on driving, he accelerated more. Cars blurred past. Traffic lights faded quickly.

In his peripheral vision, Chance failed to recognize a set of headlights.

He heard the crushing of metal. He saw the blinding light. He felt the air bag burst out of confinement.

Glass sprayed his face and right side. Metal cracked and shattered. The door panel closed in on Chance.

His head was tossed around. His arm was caught between the wheel and the bent door. His shoulder dislocated. The contortion of the door pressed his legs into odd angles. His face was cut and bloodied. His chest felt bruised from the airbag.

The car spun from the impact. Tires squealed. Sounds of the crash reverberated through the dark intersection.

No one had witnessed the collision. 

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Musings of the Smart Girl with Pink Hair and High Heels (How, or Should it be Why?)

How do you grieve when your mind won’t even grasp that it’s true?

How do you remember when all your memories are trapped in tiny compartments locked away in places in your mind you never visit?

How do you trust others when you can only see your selfishness and know everyone else acts in the same way?

How can you not go insane when you know the truth, but you are too good at denying it, for coping reasons?

How can you let yourself cry when you have worked for years to be strong?

How can you let go when you hold onto everything so tightly?

How can you not be apathetic when you hate hoping for things because you have been disappointed so many times?

How can you be so wrong about something you have held so dear for years?

How can you hope again when you realize how ignorant you have been?

How can you find answers when you only keep the deep questions to yourself?

How can you ask the questions when, in the right moment to inquire, your mind always goes blank?

How do you cope when all you can do is lock everything in a little box and set it aside with the wish it would just go away on its own?

How can you survive when all your plans have been for nothing?

How do you dream when you realize what you have wanted for so long and worked so hard to achieve is just a piece of dust?

How can you find answers when you aren’t willing to listen?

How can you slow down and try to listen when you don’t really want to make time for it?

How can you forgive yourself when you know your selfishness always leads to hurting people?

How can you meet everyone’s expectations when you are rebellious by nature?

How can you live as a rebel, but still have the desire to please people?

How can you be selfless without losing yourself?

How can life be so cruel…?