We've all played the "What If" game, haven't we? But when it comes to the sudden departure of a loved one, it's like the universe handed you an unending supply of "What If" jenga pieces, and each one is just a tad more morose than the last.
"What if I had just called them five minutes before?" Perhaps we’d have had a riveting chat about that absurd squirrel video. You know, the one that tried to cartwheel? Maybe, just maybe, that would've been the life-changing chat.
"What if I hadn’t teased them about their mismatched socks the last time we met?" I bet those socks are in the grand cosmos now, still mismatched, still poking fun at me. “Look who's laughing now?” they seem to taunt.
Then there’s the darker, deeper ones: “What if I’d known? Could I have changed something?” These are the jenga pieces that wobble the whole tower.
Yet, in the midst of this gloomy jenga marathon, there's a weird comfort. It's like being given a backstage pass to a show you never wanted to attend. You witness the raw, unedited scenes of your own heart, and boy, it's a whirlwind.
Every "What If" is a ticket to an alternate universe. Some tickets lead to comedy shows, where you and your loved one are rolling on the floor laughing at bad puns. Others, to tragedies, where the rain doesn't stop, and mascara keeps running.
But here's the thing about these what ifs: they're sneaky little monsters. They make you believe you're the director of a play gone wrong, when in reality, they're just reminders. Reminders of how unpredictable life is, of how every mismatched sock, every squirrel video, every tiny argument, and every laugh matters.
It's an uncomfortable comedy show, this life, where the punchlines often sting. But amidst the jenga towers of "What Ifs", let's not forget the solid foundation of "What Was". For in those memories, agony meets joy, tears meet laughter, and love, well, it simply persists.
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