My mother used to say that everything happens for a reason. It didn't matter how insignificant or how heart-wrenchingly tragic, she'd say it was just meant to be. She truly believed that if a person was patient enough, looked hard enough, for long enough, they'd be able to find their silver lining. Her faith never faltered. Facing difficult times with strength and determination, my loving mother would wait, no matter how long it took. It might have taken her months or even years, but my mother would always be able to find that light shining at the end of the long, dark tunnel.
I say bullshit. There is no fucking silver lining. Shit happens. Hard times are just a part of life, like the air we breathe. We have to learn to deal with the hand we are dealt and move the hell on. Yet every damn time something fucked up happens in my life, I find myself thinking of my mother. If she were still alive, I wonder what she'd have to say about everything that's happened in my life over the last year. Would she be able to find my silver lining? Because I sure as hell can't.
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