Ten and a half hours of grief

He died in an accident at work in the middle of an ordinary day leaving his wife and four teenagers in shock. His coworkers, union brothers and a few sisters, got together to mourn him and support each other the next morning. I felt the power of them sitting together, many of them crying freely.

They arrived one by one and greeted each other. Most were careful not to shake hands because of the circulating new virus, so they fist or elbow bumped a little awkwardly instead. By noon, after many people had gotten up to speak and cried and talked among themselves, they were all hugging, and the fear of germs was out the window.

His wife asked why God was angry with her. Why he would do this to her and her kids.

This is the problem with the God thing. God blessed us, someone says, when something goes well. Well, why would he bless you and overlook someone else? Because you deserve it?

That's a little easier to swallow than a loss. When according to that worldview, the Giver randomly and cruelly takes away your love. Did you deserve that too?

I don't touch that whole mess.

We die, that's what I think. It's not your fault.

Someone said, God never gives you more than you can handle. I clenched my teeth.