Skip to main content

Counterfactuals vs fate

A dear friend from grade school got in touch with me recently while passing through the area. We went out for coffee, then walked around town on a beautiful spring day. We had a very nice conversation, free and easy, even as I related some of my feelings of grief since the last time I got to speak with her, which was very soon after we lost Aidan.

At one point we chatted about college. I had dropped out, and I suppose she wondered how things would have turned out for me if I had stayed. She asked: “If you knew then what you know now, what would you have changed?” I kind of whiffed. I told her I didn’t really have much of a choice, which was true enough. My family and its finances were simply too unstable at the time, and I couldn’t manage the chaos. There was grief and trauma to deal with back then, too, unfortunately. So chalk it up to fate.

But her question unnerved me, surprisingly so. I felt myself starting to come a bit unglued. It later made me flinch to remember it. Why? It’s because as soon as you start to consider counterfactual scenarios of any sort, you start to think of all the things you could have done to prevent this, this horrible thing that’s front and center. If I didn’t have to go and pick up something at the supermarket, my son might still be alive. It’s that fickle and random. Every interaction I ever had with Aidan might have subtly guided him towards some other idle pursuit. Once you start asking what if, your mind goes everywhere, all the way to what if he had never been born in the first place? What if I had never been born? Yes, your mind goes to all those crazy places. You question everything you ever did. It’s exhausting to even think about.

It’s easier to believe in fate. It’s easier to believe it was all God’s Plan. You would think it’s the other way around, that fate is unattractively severe and unresponsive. But it helps you keep going down the road, and to stay on that road.

And of course, I was so distracted by these thoughts that I forgot to ask my friend where she wound up at college.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A ChatGPT AI prompt

Haven't written here for quite a while. I snapped a photo today, and had an idea for something I’d be more interested in reading than writing. It's phrased as an API prompt. Write a children’s story for adults, about a bunch of books in a town's mini-library box. All the books are unwanted cast-offs, and they all want to have someone take them in and read them, and hopefully keep them, much as a child in an orphanage wants to be adopted. All the books are anthropomorphized, and have ongoing conversations with each other, as humans do. All the books talk to each other in the same voice as their authors. So, one book is by Dan Brown. Whatever that book says as dialog reads like a sentence in a Dan Brown novel. Another book is a romance novel by Danielle Steel. One book is Class, Race, and Gender , by Michael Zweig. One book is about how to get teams at work to better collaborate. One book is a volume of cute poems about cats. One is by a Portuguese novelist who won the Nobel ...

A dream

I’d like to share a dream of my son, Aidan. I had this dream a bit over a year ago, a few months after we lost him, some time during the winter of 2017/18. I had a couple of other dreams of him before this one, but with very few words spoken that I could remember. In one, I got to hug him for a long time and tell him how much I love him and miss him. I don’t recall if he said anything back. While hugging him, I pressed my nose against his shoulder, inhaled, and was able to smell him. I recall that very clearly, because he was at that age where he was starting to smell like a man. (We already had the deodorant talk.) It’s a common belief that you can’t smell in dreams, but not true. In another dream, we were all together as a family, visiting Aidan in a sketchy ramshackle house where he was staying for some reason with a mysterious woman. The front yard was filled with a mix of toys of various ages and random junk. I got to hug Aidan again as he came out from ...

Grief math

A few days after Aidan’s funeral, we still couldn’t manage to go back and stay in our house. Instead we headed out to Cape Cod, where a friend offered up his family’s house to us. Once we arrived, we heard some dreadful news from town. Another boy, named Dylan, was also killed suddenly. It was a horrible accident where he was riding a bicycle and struck by a commuter train. We were only distantly acquainted with the family, and their kids were in different grades than ours. Struggling to understand what happened, I found myself idly mouthing much the same phrase we had recently heard repeated dozens of times. Oh my god, I can’t even imagine what that family is going through. I stopped myself, and did a quick double-take. I felt stupid for saying it, out loud no less. But then I began thinking about it and stepping through it word by word. I realized I was right. I couldn’t imagine what they were going through, because I couldn’t imagine what it was w...