A Vapor (a puff of smoke, a mist)
I remember feeling shocked when my grandfather passed away. It didn’t seem right, it happened so suddenly, it was too soon. As I processed through my emotions that day, I was surprised those feelings were my immediate response. Why? Because my grandfather was 101 years old when he died. It didn’t matter that he had lived a very long life, nor that he was ready to meet his maker, looking forward to it even. None of that mattered to me, it still felt wrong. We all know death is a natural part of this life, but somehow it always feels unnatural. The feelings of injustice are magnified when we see babies, children and young men and women die. We’re left dazed, confused, befuddled. Why? Why? Why? The word rings loud on repeat in my mind. I have seen death over and over and over in Haiti, yet I know I’ve only experienced a fraction of what the general population experience in a lifetime. Why? Why? Why? The word rings loud on repeat in my mind. I sat with a group of Haitian women