Birthdays and Miracles

Today is my father's 65th Birthday. It is a milestone to many. A celebration. Here is a man who prayed on at least three minors, and ten women. These are just the ones I know of, how many others were there in his 65 years? Why does such a morally lacking predator get to live to 65 years of age? Oh let me add, the last time I spoke to my father (over a year ago) he was going through the process to get approved for a lung transplant through medicare, extending his life. That's right, he was attempting to live through someone else's tragedy. (Note: I'm all for organ donations, I just don't want him to have one.)

Did he get his lung? I don't know. I know he's not dead yet, or I would have heard about it, so Happy Fucking Birthday to my predator father.

Gee, do I seem hostile? Well yes I am. Even if we take away the fact someone could lose a family member, so my father can continue his life.... even if I could possibly forget that for a second, lets consider the things I can't forget at all.

I have a friend, a wonderful mother of four who is married to the man of her dreams. Not only have they been fighting for years for their son to beat brain cancer, but at 40 years old she was diagnosed with a different inoperable brain tumor. She has weeks to live.

There is a nine year old boy who is close to one of my friends who also has an inoperable brain tumor and has been told his days are numbered. Much like my friend's boy, he's innocent, pure, and hasn't even been given the chance to really live life yet.

Then there is my friends cousin, who is 31, a wife, a mother of two young children who collapsed due to a blood clot in her neck that burst, which led to the discovery of SIX blood clots in her brain. While undergoing emergency surgery she had three strokes. Her brain was swelling to the point they cut a hole in her skull and are keeping her in a medically induced coma. The doctors are not optimistic.

So here we have it. I am praying for three miracles for three separate families. The miracles all involve children and mothers. When did the number three become so monumental?  Then there is a man like my father who is celebrating his 65th birthday and possibly with a new set of lungs.

How do I feel about that? Well... I'm pissed off. I'm angry. I'm hurt. I'm sad. I'm scared and I'm heartbroken. I know what it's like to live without a mother. I never want to know what it's like to live without a child, but can imagine no greater pain.

Why do the innocent hurt, while the predator celebrates?