A babbling brook of whys and what ifs.
Where’s his second chance? His saving grace?
That miracle lying in wait.
So tied to our illusion of control,
we beg and plead:
he’s one of the good ones,
please use it on him.
In a single moment,
our road map diverged from His.
Propelling us off course,
no turn-by-turn directions home.
Eight months later,
some footing found.
Hints of knowing,
silver linings and signs of God all around.
And still, some days, anger interrupts again:
why didn’t he get a second chance?
A quick and knowing all-heart reply:
His first chance taken,
a life well lived.
A family, his humble heart,
full to the brim.
Why didn’t he get a second chance?
Because he didn’t need one.