The Questions

I can live - somehow - with Molly's death.  It is the questions that continually hover over and around me.

Did we listen to her as well as we could have?    Looking back over her life, I can see that Molly gave us clues to what was going on in her head.  What if we had pursued those clues more agressively?

Did Molly have the medical care that she needed?   She had medical care, hospitalization, prescription drugs and regular therapy.   Should we have pushed for more?    Would another doctor have made a difference?  

Did our pride play a role in Molly's death?   It was hard for us to admit that Molly was ill, and scary for us to approve the use of medication.   For her sake - and for our own - we did not want her to be ill and therefore we didn't really admit how sick she was.   We were huge advocates for her health...   not for her illness. 

What did Molly think of us?  I know that she loved us - deeply.  But it is one thing to know something, and quite another thing to believe it.  Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to see her again, and I am pretty sure I would say to her "What were you thinking....?" in a  stern mother-type voice before dissolving in to tears of joy at seeing her.   What would she say to us?

What is life and what is death and how do they intersect?  The exprience of Molly's death has taught me that death is nothing to fear, that life and after-life are inseparable and that something very, very real takes place after our earthly experience.  I am sure.  And yet, I wonder. 

Molly's life is fun to talk about - there is joy and there is laughter.   But her death is unexplained, and always will be.  I can read and study and pray and consult experts and study Molly's life in minute detail and I will NEVER answer the questions that hover always and forever in the background of my life.